


The Good Captain

by wordsbymeganmichael



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-10
Updated: 2016-10-15
Packaged: 2018-05-13 00:35:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 26,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5687767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordsbymeganmichael/pseuds/wordsbymeganmichael
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Somewhat AU set in medieval-esque Enchanted Forest, but where magic isn't widely known. Emma Swan, a barmaid who is comfortable where she is, meets Captain Hook and finds that he is, in fact, human - and learns that she has the ability to yield magic, and a destiny to fulfill.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I really needed me some Gothic-Victorian Captain Swan, with real swashbuckling pirates and corsets and magic and everything I love the most. It was going to just be a single-chapter, but I like it so much that I decided to run with it.

“Aye, barmaid!” the Captain calls across the bustling tavern, the one he always preferred above the rest when they made port here. “More rum for my crew!”

Emma Swan rolls her eyes, knowing the pirate crew well, as this happens to be their favorite tavern, and some of her best friends their favorite tavern wenches. Reaching behind the bar, she grabs another bottle of rum – their fourth since this morning, don’t think she isn’t keeping track – then takes it over to their corner of the open room before the Captain starts yelling again.

“Aye, lass, what’s your name?” he asks as she hands him the large bottle, and she flashes him a smile.

Knowing right well the kind of man he is, she can’t help but lean over onto the table, perhaps showing a little too much of her bosom, held up tightly by a corset – though the way his glazed eyes seem to bulge at just the sight of her, she has no regrets.

“Emma, Captain. My name is Emma Swan.” Taking the bottle from his hands, she takes a swig of it herself, then hands it back to him, and his eyebrows fly up into a look of even more awe than before.

“Aye, Emma. I know you’ve told me that before.” With both of his arms wrapped around different girls’ shoulders, she finds it somewhat hard to still find him attractive, but there’s no way of hiding from it, even if he has had his way with almost every woman around here. His shaggy hair gives off a devil-may-care aura, though his pristine dressing tells gives the exact opposite, not a spot on his long coat, tails flying behind him and each large brass button upon it perfectly polished, along with the large silver belt buckle, fastening a large leather strap around his waist. Covering up most – but not all – of his dark, thick chest hair is a deep red vest, a very intricate pattern embroidered onto it, also held together by shining silver clasps. Though she can’t see them now, she can almost see his shining black leather breeches, clinging tight to his legs, from his hips to his knees, where his polished black boots begin. Every detail of him is clean, combed, polished – damned perfect.

His most extreme characteristic, the one thing that never fails to get her heart pounding, though, is his eyes, those damned skies in and of themselves, the very same blue of the perfectly still lakes she remembers from her childhood in the wilderness, running from authorities and hiding from the law, a teenaged bandit – and, at the same time, the perfect, unblemished blue that she’s seen powdered and pristine on the dresses of more important folk. The perfect blue of the mid-morning ocean that she passes every day on her way to work, walking the few blocks between her small hut on the outskirts and the seaside tavern that she prefers to her own abode. A lue that reminds her of warm summer days on secluded islands, of having a home and a safe place to stay, even if it never lasted very long. A safe blue.

Just as she’s refocusing on his position, he changes it, unleashing the women next to him from his grasp and placing his hands – well, hand – on the dark wooden table, leaning towards her. “Tell me, Emma,” he mutters as soft as he can to still be heard, his voice deep and thick with drunkenness. “Have I ever told you how I got my hook?” To draw attention to exactly that, he reaches his left arm up, gently pressing the curve of his hook against her cheek.

Continuing to lean forward, though possibly only for the reason of keeping his sole attention while she still can, she reaches up and slowly wraps her hand around his hook. “As a matter of fact, Captain, I’ve always wondered just that.” She then remembers what she’s there for, straightens her composure, and gently leads his hand back down to the table. “However, I have to get back to work.”

Before she can turn around, he places his (real) hand on top of hers. “Well, I’ll be here all day, lass, just let me know when you’re done. I’ll tell you all about my adventures.” He leans as far as he can across the table again, looking up at her, his piercing blue eyes gazing deep down into her soul, then winks at her. “And maybe have an adventure of our own.” As soon as his hand releases hers, she turns away from the table, needing to focus her attention on something other than the Captain – before it’s too late.

When she makes it to the other side of the bar, she allows herself to slow down and look for people that need her, though given the fact that it’s midday and the middle of the spring, the tavern is somewhat empty. After getting herself a pint of ale and a bowl of stew, the normal barmaid lunch, she sits down at an empty table in the opposite corner of the room than the Captain and his acquaintances, alone with her thoughts – though only for a minute.

“Emma, are you okay?” Ruby asks, sitting down across from her with her own tankard and bowl of stew. “You seem really out of it.”

In lieu of answering, she points her chin across the room, where the Captain is once again enamored by the wenches sitting aside him, his arms draped across their shoulders, his hand holding the newest bottle of rum and his hook tangled in the redhead’s nest of hair.

Ruby gives a knowing nod between spoonfuls of broth. “Rumor around here was that he was coming back sometime next week, so he’s just about right on time.” Ruby smiles at her joke, but Emma is unphased, stirring her stew but not eating it, her eyes unwavering from where he sits across the room, which she can somehow see perfectly even though her plan was to find a place where she couldn’t see him. Seeing this, Ruby sets down her spoon and leans towards her, trying to get her attention – and it works. When Emma’s eyes meet hers, she flashes a slight smile. “All you have to do is tell him, Emma,” she says when she knows she has her undivided attention, even if it’s only for a moment.

She can’t help but laugh out loud at this idea, and she voices her opinion. “Tell him? Tell the most vengeful pirate known to man – tell him what? That he’s the only thing I can think about, and it’s only worse when he’s in town? That I’m completely enamored by the mere thought of his existence?” She picks up her tankard and drains the rest of it, trying her hardest not to slam it on the table with all her might. “Yeah, Ruby, that would go over really well.”

“It was just a thought,” she comments, bringing another spoonful of stew to her bright red lips – as always, the same color as her bodice.

“Do you know what would happen if I did that, Ruby? I would be the laughingstock of the whole country, the barmaid that fell in love with the infamous Captain Hook! Yeah, Ruby, that sounds like a great idea.”

Ruby’s eyes go wide. “Now, you never told me that you were in love with him!” She either fails to hide the excitement on her face, or never tried to hide it at all. “This changes everything, you know.”

Emma rolls her eyes, ripping off a chunk of her bread and dipping it in her broth. “I am not in love with him, Ruby,” she says out loud, trying to convince herself of the same thing. After a moment’s hesitation, she nods to herself, repeating the phrase in her head as she chews her bite of bread. ‘I am not in love with him.’

“Well, lust is more up a pirate’s alley anyway,” Ruby comments sarcastically.

Emma doesn’t really want to argue, but she doesn’t realize that until she’s already started. “But it’s not lust, either.” When she thinks of the way his jawbone quivers when she speaks, though, and the tremors that this sends through her body, the way his eyes glimmer when he stares at her, the sultry deepness his voice becomes after just the first bottle of rum, she adds, “But it might be closer to that.”

“Maybe the pirate has a soft side.”

She scoffs, leaning back, denying believing this, not even for a second. “Even if he did, I doubt he would show it to a lowly barmaid like myself.”

“Stop calling yourself that, Emma. You’re far more than just a barmaid, and any man that doesn’t see that doesn’t deserve you anyway. And anyway, sometimes men can surprise you,” Ruby says, a knowing smile slowly spreading across her face, most likely thinking back over her past, which Emma has heard enough about to conclude that she doesn’t want to hear any more.

After taking another bite of her stew, Emma leans towards her, eyebrows raised high on her forehead. “And how do you suggest I figure that one out, anyway? Ever time he’s here he’s so drunk he doesn’t even remember my name, not even just between rum runs. Hell, not even before the first bottle.”

“Maybe he’ll take you on his next voyage. I’ve heard he’s not drunk when he sails, at least not as much as he is when he makes port.”

“Where do you hear all these stories anyway?” Emma asks, immediately realizing that she already knows the answer, since Ruby is one of the most popular barmaids and wenches in town.

Ruby’s face turns as red as her name, her lips, her dress. “You know, places. Men like to tell stories, especially about themselves and their popular captains. To show off, you know.”

As loved as Emma is as a barmaid, she’s tried her very best to stay away from the more personal aspect of that – and, somehow, she’s done very well, save a few men that she’s indulged herself in just as much as they have in her. Besides, when you compare her to the other options, Ruby, Cora, even Regina, men have lots of other options around here. Sure, she is just about the only blonde in the establishment, with her curls hanging just below her shoulders, but Ruby’s long, straight plait of darkness is much more impressive; sure, she’s a flirt, but Cora’s an outright tease. And usually if a man was starting to get too comfortable with her, she would ask one of the other girls to take over before it escalated to the point where it was too late.

But then, there was the Captain. When he first started to come around here, she would race the other girls to take care of him, to serve him rum and food, immediately drawn by his presence, but never anything more – he always seemed to be covered in that area, bringing his own women with him into the tavern. But as time went on and his visits became more and more stable, Emma found herself not needing to rush anymore, as the other girls leave him just for her. And at the end of the day, after she serves him innumerable bottles of rum and tankards of ale to his crew and his women, he would leave happy, usually with one wench on each arm and still gripping the last bottle she handed to him. She was just fine with this set up, completely content with their platonic, drunk-and-barmaid relationship – that is, until very recently, when suddenly she’s found herself wanting more, though she hasn’t yet decided how much more.

“Emma, are you still in there?” It’s only when Ruby pulls her concentration back to the real world that she realizes that she ever left.

“Yeah, sorry, I was just… thinking.”

“About the Captain?”

She smiles at Ruby, for her bluntness, for her humor, for simply her presence.  At first, she thinks about denying the fact, but Ruby would know – she always does. “Yes, Ruby, about the Captain.”

“Barmaid!”

“Speak of the devil,” Emma mutters under her breath, recognizing his voice right away, even all the way across the tavern.

Ruby hears her and adds, “Don’t forget the rum!” before Emma leaves the table.

Although she tries her best not to, she can’t hold back the smile on her face as she approaches him. “More rum already, Captain?” she asks, then notices that the bottle in front of him is still half full.

Before he responds, he taps each of the girls next to him on their shoulders, then tilts his head away from the table. Although they roll their eyes at him, they stand up and leave the two of them alone. “Sit, lass.”

She takes a quick look around the room, trying to find an excuse, but the tavern really is pretty empty, so there are none for her to use, and she follows his command.

“What can I do for you, Captain?”

He leans back on the wooden bench, his hands (hand?) pressed against the back of his head. “I thought you would never ask.”

She legitimately doesn’t know how to respond to this – again, she was never one to actually deal one-on-one with the men that come around, past simply serving them alcohol and whatever food was on hand that day. “What exactly is that supposed to mean?” She feels her eyebrows unintentionally furrow, failing to keep the glare off of her face.

Most likely in response to her expression, he responds, “Aye, I mean no harm. At least, I don’t think I do.”

Just as he’s about to do so, she reaches out for the half-full bottle of rum sitting between them, taking a quick swig then placing it back. After a moment, he does the same, then leans forward and looks right at her, his bright blue eyes burning into her soul again. “Tell me a little about yourself.”

She laughs out loud in his face. “Really? You’re asking me for my backstory? The notorious Captain Hook cares about the history of a barmaid.” Now it’s her turn to lean forward towards him. “No one will ever believe this, Captain.”

“You’ve only heard the stories, lass. Those who know me know that I care about my crew, that I have feelings. Those stories about me only scratch the surface of who I really am.”

This confession sets her off-guard for a moment, and she sits back up to contemplate it.

He must be reading her expression again, because he flashes a smile at her. “Aye, I guess you never thought of that. “

“Well, yes, but I also can’t help but wonder, why me?”

He leans closer to her, his eyes flashing around the room before he gestures for her to do the same. Once they’re close enough for him to whisper, he does just that. “No one has ever looked at me the way you do. I’ve only ever felt lust, save for one time, with my deceased love, and her eyes were free of lust, the same way yours seem to be. You remind me of my Milah more than any woman has done since I lost her all those years ago.” He somehow seems sobered, no longer slurring his words, his eyes staying very focused on her – a fact that scares her more than surprises her, given how many bottles of rum she’s given to him since this morning.

Because of this fact alone, she decides to ask him, “If I stand out to you so much, why can you never seem to remember my name?”

“For the sake of my name, Swan.”

“Excuse me?”

“My reputation would sink if people learned I actually had feelings, enough to remember the name of a barmaid, especially one that refuses to be more than that.”

“How would your reputation hold if people learned that you dismissed your other dames just to talk to her?”

His eyebrows raise in realization, and it’s his turn to be caught off guard. “Well, I haven’t thought of that.”

She goes to stand up, sarcastically asking, “Do you want me to bring your other girls back, or - ?” but he stops her before she’s up all the way.

“I don’t care about them, Emma.” He tries to sound convincing, but the worried look on his face as he looks around the tavern gives off a whole different vibe. “I miss the way my life was when I was with Milah. I could trust her, in a whole different way than I trust my crew, trust Mr. Smee.”

She sits back down across from him, taking another swig from the rum bottle before asking, “And you think I’m the one who will give you that?”

“You’re unlike any other woman I’ve ever met, Emma. And I want to at least try to find out if you’re the thing that’s been missing from my life since I lost my Milah.”

Before she has a chance to respond, Ruby appears next to them at the table.

“Emma, Paul’s not very happy that you’re over here and not working. He wants you to get back to work, or he’s going to have to fire you.”

“And he sent you over here to tell me this?”

Ruby smiles at her with a shrug. “Well, he was going to just come over and fire you, but I talked him out of that.”

Emma turns to the Captain, then readies herself to stand up again – and is again stopped by the warm feeling of his hand covering hers. “What?” she asks, but instead of an answer, he uses his hook to pull a small maroon bag out of the inside of his jacket, which he then hands to Ruby.

“Give this to your Paul. He should find it a good trade for me to keep Emma for at least a little while longer.”

Without an argument, Ruby accepts the bag, and quickly winks at Emma before leaving them alone in the corner again.

When she’s out of earshot, the Captain leans forward again, as far as he can, and Emma lowers herself back onto the wooden bench.

“Will you at least give me a chance, Swan?”

Letting go of most of her fear and the stigma of giving herself to a pirate, she allows herself to smile at him. At the same time, the way he grinds his teeth together when he calls her that, the hardness of his jawbone because of it, the perfect twinkle in his sparkling blue eyes, sparks a whole different kind of stigma, one that starts with a warmth in her stomach and slowly spreads across her body. “A chance,” she repeats, trying to keep her emotions in check and out of her voice. “I think I can do that.”

He returns her smile, which immediately causes her heartbeat to race in her chest.

“Good,” he replies, pushing himself away from the table, then standing up, and she does the same. “Because there’s someone I want you to meet.”

When she realizes he’s leading her out of the tavern, she places her hand on his shoulder, pulling him back. “Wait, I can’t just skip out on my job.”

“With the amount I gave your Paul there, I’m sure he’ll find it acceptable.”

“How much did you give him?”

“If I’m right about my general calculations, it should be about a month’s pay for you.”

Not believing what he just told her, she turns to look at Paul, who’s still pulling coins out of the small maroon bag. He then looks at her and gestures out the door, mouthing one word with a smile on his face: “Go.”

That’s all the push Emma needs, and she follows the Captain out the door.

The walk doesn’t take very long, and he ignores her questions every time she tries to figure out where they’re heading, quickly pulling her along behind him, a large grin plastered on his face. They’ve only walked a few blocks when Emma puts together the route and realizes their destination: the harbor.

“Here she is!” the Captain exclaims, pulling her to a stop in front of a beautiful white and blue ship with yellow accents docked on the outskirts of the harbor. The whole thing was obviously very well-kept, from the perfect knots in the mooring lines to the pristine condition of the paint, even after years of sailing. “The Jolly Roger!”

She can tell by the look on his face that he’s extremely proud of his ship, and she immediately understands why. “It’s beautiful,” she comments, not taking her eyes off the ship – and she’s telling the truth. With all her years near the harbor, she’s never seen a more beautiful, more loved ship, with its vibrant colors and perfect woodwork.

“Would you like to come aboard?” he asks, already making his way across the short dock towards her, his hand outstretched towards hers.

She then realizes that this is possibly the greatest decision of her life, a step towards the unknown, or staying where she has already sunk her roots, where she is comfortable and safe and in charge of her own life.

“You’re not afraid of ships, are you, love?” he asks, a smile spreading across his face, but then he must see the worried look on hers, because he adds in a more serious tone, “You’re not, are you?”

Right then, she makes her decision, reaching out to grab ahold of his hand and hoist herself onto the dock. “No, I’m not afraid.” And in her mind, she knew that meant more than just the ship.


	2. Chapter 2

“Good,” the Captain says with a smile that makes her heart skip a beat, pulling her up next to him on the dock. “Because I don’t think you and I would get along well if you weren’t a fan of ships, love.”

The dock is only a few feet long, so it doesn’t take more than a handful of steps until they’re on board the Jolly Roger. Almost immediately, a stout older man wearing a bright red cap greets them with a full-on salute. “Captain, what can I do for you?”

After a flash of a look at Emma, he changes his composure completely, taking a menacing step towards the man, physically towering over him. “I need nothing from you right now, Smee. Only some privacy, for once in a damned while.”

Smee’s eyes are wide and unblinking, filled with obvious fear of the man standing in front of him. “Yes, Captain, but I thought – “

Raising his hook above his hand, the Captain roars, “I never asked you what you thought!”

The first mate physically cowers away from him, obviously not the first time he’s being threatened by the hook, though it’s probably not anything you ever got used to.

“Yes, sir,” Smee says again, then backs away until he’s out of arms reach, taking himself as far out of his way as he can to avoid the Captain as he leaves the ship. When he’s finally off the dock, the Captain turns to Emma, and she’s shocked when she sees him turn back from the vicious pirate to the man she was talking to before, he eyes and features softening together, revealing an almost brand-new man.

“Sorry about that.” His voice is completely different, too, losing it’s hard edge and fear-invoking sense of authority – almost as if he just turned from a human into some supernatural being, then back to a human.

At first, she’s afraid to ask the questions that are in her head, then she remembers that she, unlike Smee and the rest of the crew, can really walk away whenever she wants, and therefore has not real reason to fear the man standing in front of her. He is, in fact, just a man, no matter how many other people may believe otherwise.

“Why do you talk to them like that?”

She watches closely as his eyes harden, then soften again, presumably as he remembers exactly who he’s talking to. “I told you already, Emma. It’s all for my reputation.”

“Does that man know that you have a soft side?”

His eyes travel to the stop where Smee walked off the boat, and he chuckles to himself, a weird sound given the side of him Emma just witnessed. “He knows that I used to, back to the few years when Milah was with us.” As he leads her down to the Captain’s Chambers, she expects him to change the subject, but he doesn’t. “Smee is one of the few men I have left that were sailing with me when Milah was with us, and probably the only member of this crew that I’ve spoken to without yelling. But I have a reputation to keep.”

“What about Milah?” She watches his face carefully when she asks this question, fully ready to back away if the menacing shadow returned, but his eyes seem to soften even more than they did before, focused far beyond anything in the small cabin.

“Aye, Milah,” he mumbles, rubbing his thumb against the curve of his hook. “Milah changed me, in ways I never knew was possible. And I think that’s part of the reason that I turned back to the man I was so quickly after her death, and to a more extreme level than before.” His eyes travel to hers, full of both anguish and anger. “My hatred towards the man responsible for her death is what fuels my fires now, what sits at the helm of every expedition, every move – vengeance towards that crocodile, Rumplestiltskin.”

Hearing the name surprises her. Of course, she’s heard it before – everyone has, or so it seems. But knowing that he is behind the mote vengeful, terrifying pirate to ever sail? She wants to be surprised, even just a little, but she’s not, remembering all the stories she’s heard, from the travelers and the drunks, and even from Cora and Regina, who seem to have some first-hand experience with him, supposedly learning magic from him – but that wasn’t really possible, was it?

“You’ve heard of him, I take it?” He must have recognized the knowing look on her face as she looked back over the stories she’s heard.

Pulling herself back to the present, she nods her head. “Yeah, I’ve heard of him all right, though I’ve never been sure about how much of it to actually believe, when it comes to magic and tearing people’s hearts out of their bodies and – “ Her voice is skeptical, but when she sees the hardness that passes over the Captain’s face when she mentions the heart thing, she skepticism seems to melt then and there. When he’s unresponsive for a few moments, the movement of his jawbone revealing the grinding of his teeth, Emma calls out to him: “Hook?”

As soon as she says his name, his eyes rush to hers, sparks of anger flashing through them.

“Believe the stories, Emma, because they’re true. I’ve seen it done, though I hope to never see it done again.” She’s struck speechless, even more so when he adds: “And, by the way, Killian, My name is Killian.”

It takes her a moment to regain herself, since reality just spun out of control in her life – “magic”, her brain is screaming, and she can’t stop it right away. Finally, she gets one word out, but is further unsure which of the two truths just revealed to her it points to: “What?”

He clears up the second one, the easier of the two, first. “Killian, love. My name is Killian Jones, and you can call me that.” His whole face seems to jump into a knowing smile. “Just, not in front of anyone else.”

“Okay,” she says out loud, then repeats it in her head a few times, along with ‘Captain Hook just told me his first name – Captain Hook HAS a first name.’

“But magic,” he continues after a second. “That’s a little harder to explain. I didn’t want to believe it at first, either, but with everything I’ve seen, there’s no way to hide from it anymore.”

One question immediately pops into Emma’s mind: “Does – does everyone have the ability to wield magic?”

The Captain smiles at her, and her seemingly comfortable aura even though he just released a huge truth to her. “Honestly, I’m not sure about that one. I don’t have very many of the answers, though I can think of a few places where we might be able to find them.” He turns to the bookshelf on the wall behind him – the sheer fact that he has a bookshelf built into his ship makes Emma like him a little bit more. As soon as his hand touches it, however, two voices can be heard on deck, yelling at each other just outside the cabin.

“The Captain does not want to be disturbed!” This voice is obviously Mr. Smee’s, though why he’s back on board is unknown.

“I’m sure he’ll find what I have to say immensely important.” The second voice isn’t familiar to Emma, but it’s one that Captain Hook will never forget.

“The Crocodile,” Killian mutters under his breath, strapping his sword from on the desk behind him around his waist before he climbs back up onto deck. “Stay here,” he suggests – she thinks it’s a suggestion and not a command because he sounds sorely unsure whether or not that’s a good idea, but she does so anyway. While she slowly walks around the cabin, running her hands over the small bed, the smooth walls, the empty desk, she can hear the conversation on the deck above her.

“Oh, there’s the good Captain!” Rumplestiltskin’s voice is higher pitched that she expected, and full of sarcasm.

Killian’s, on the other hand, is deep, dark, and menacing. “What do you want, crocodile?”

“You have something on board that is very important to me, Captain, and I’ve come to retrieve it.”

“I have nothing of yours.”

“Ah-ah-ah!” The laugh that follows this sends shivers down Emma’s back. She tries to read the titles of the books and not eavesdrop, but she fails terribly. “I never said it was anything of mine, did I, pirate? You’re not the only one who enjoys treasure.” The footsteps she hears lets her keep track of where the two of them are standing, and they’re right above her.

“What is it that you’re looking for, Dark One?”

“What the hell is a ‘dark one’?” Emma asks herself out loud, then sits down on the bed, made neatly in the corner with a thick maroon blanket and two plain pillows, the nicest bed she’s seen in a while.

“Not a what, pirate!” He laughs again, and it has the same effect on her as before. “A who!” At first, Emma doesn’t realize what this means – she and the Captain are the only ones on board, unless there’s someone that he wasn’t aware of – and she highly doubts that. Even when he asks, “Where is she, Captain?”, it doesn’t even cross her mind that he might be looking for her.

Killian asks the same question she has in her head, though not worded quite the same way she would have done so herself: “Who the bloody hell are you looking far, crocodile?”

“Well, who else but Emma Swan!”

“Emma Swan?” This time the voice is that of the first mate, Mr. Smee. “There’s no Emma Swan on board this ship, not that I know of, unless she’s – “

“Smee!” Hook’s Captain’s voice is back, stronger than she first time she heard it. “But he’s right, Dark One, there’s no Emma Swan on board, at least not this vessel.” Their voices shift position again, and Emma realizes that they must be standing right outside the hatch leading into the cabin.

Someone knocks the door, and she looks around to find a weapon of some sort, though there’s none that she can see, save a sword hanging from the wall above the bed, but that looks too important to use as a weapon of defense. She has no other options, no way to defend herself – and then she realizes that she doesn’t even know what Rumplestiltskin wants her for, that she may not even have to defend herself. But given what she’s always heard about him, she probably wants to defend herself either way.

“You’re trying to tell me that if I go into this cabin, I won’t find myself Emma Swan?”

“You can’t go in there,” Killian responds, but she hears the hatch open anyway.

“Ah-ah-ah,” he says again. “That wasn’t my question.”

“At least let me go first. They are my quarters.”

Rumplestiltskin lets out another laugh. “So you can defend her? I’m not looking to harm her, Captain. I just need to talk to her.”

When she hears someone making their way down to the cabin, she’s unsure who will be first. Killian reaches the bottom of the ladder first, and she lets out a sigh of relief – which is sucked back up in a gasp when she sees Rumplestiltskin behind him.

He is quite literally different than anyone Emma has ever seen: where normal people have skin, he seems to have some sort of gold, reptilian scales, which cast an odd twinkle in the low light of the cabin. He is short, especially when compared to Killian, though not inhumanly short. When he speaks, his voice seems to flow more like a liquid than a sound.

“Ah, Miss Swan. I knew I’d find you here.”

Killian turns to her, the confused looks on their faces almost identical. Rumplestiltskin laughs again, a sound that Emma will probably never get used to.

“How did you know I’d be here? What do you even want with me? And what the hell is a ‘Dark One’?”

“There’s a lot you need to learn, Emma. But I – “ He gestures to himself with a flourish of his hands. “Am a Dark One.”

“And I suppose you’re the one who’s going to answer all of my questions? And teach me these – these things I need to know?”

“Of course not, dearie,” he replies, which causes Emma and Killian to share another questioning glance.

“Then who is?” Killian asks before Emma even has the chance.

“A very dear friend of mine, I’m sure you’ll recognize her.” He turns back to the cabin door and cups his hands around his mouth. “Regina, dearie, will you come join us?”

There’s a soft clattering up on deck, then the shuffling of skirts coming down the ladder. At first, Emma hoped that she heard him wrong, or that it can’t be the same Regina – but when she turns around after coming down the ladder, there’s no denying it.

“Regina?” Emma is beyond bewildered.

Instead of responding, she turns to Rumplestiltskin. “Oh, no. No, no, I’m not teaching her.”

“Wait, what the hell have I ever done to you?”

But she’s still talking to Rumplestiltskin and ignoring Emma.

“I was fine with teaching someone, but not her.” Still avoiding eye contact, she points right at Emma, who then steps between Regina and Rumplestiltskin.

“What the hell have I ever done to you, Regina?”

“It’s not what you’ve done!” she yells. “It’s what your mother did to me!”

Emma’s surprise is, once again, beyond words. “My – my mother?” she repeats, her eyes wide. “How do you know who my mother is, so how would you possibly know…” Her voice trails off, replaced, once again, with the terrible cackle of Rumplestiltskin.

Regina leans to the side to look around her. “You didn’t even tell her that much?”

Emma swings around to face Rumplestiltskin. “You mean, you know who my parents are?”

His smile reveals weird, somewhat pointed teeth. “Aye, dearie, and I know more than that.”

“What do you mean?”

“I know where your parents are.” He turns to Regina, then back to Emma, another creepy smile plastered on his scaly face. “Now, ladies, we can be off now, go reintroduce Emma to her – “ He lets out an unexpected cackle, which causes Emma to jump, though Regina just rolls her eyes. “Her charming parents!”

“If you don’t mind me asking, um, Dark One,” Emma insists, though skeptical. “Where exactly are we going?”

“Well, to my abode, of course! Where else would someone keep two people prisoners?”

“Prisoners?” Killian asks, rubbing his thumb along the curve of his hook again.

“Yes, pirate, prisoners!” Rumplestiltskin is entirely too happy about this. “Now, ladies, let us be off!” Turning back to Hook, he adds, “Good day, Captain!”

Before anyone has a chance to move, Hook intervenes. “No, wait, I’m coming with you.”

“Ah-ah-ah, Captain,” Rumplestiltskin says – but at the same time, Emma presses her hand against his forearm.

“Killian,” she says softly, but the rest of the room erupts in pandemonium.

“No, Emma, there’s no argument, I’m coming with you!”

“Killian! Turns out that our good Captain is human after all!”

“Oh my God, she has feelings for the pirate!”

Emma’s not sure which one of the three statements shocks her more, but she has no time to respond before Rumplestiltskin takes the center of the circle again.

“Captain, it’s not the time for you to come with us, not yet. Miss Swan here has a lot to learn , and we can’t have her being distracted!”

Without another word, Rumplestiltskin turns towards the ladder and climbs back onto the deck, followed closely by Regina. Before Emma can follow them, she feels Killian’s hand on her arm, and when she turns towards him, his face is inches away from hers. “I will come find you, Swan,” he says softly. “You have my word.” As softly as he spoke, he presses his lips against her hand as a goodbye before she heads back up to the deck.

The carriage is bigger than any she’s been in before, large enough to comfortably hold the three of them with adequate space between them to ignore each other.

After a while, Emma’s head is too full of questions to stay quiet anymore. “I need to know,” she opens, and Regina lets out an audible sigh, probably accompanied with an eye roll, but Emma continues anyway. “How do you know who my parents are?”

“Wait a second,” Regina cuts in. “You’ve been told that you need to learn magic to fulfill your destiny by Rumplestiltskin while you’re on Captain Hook’s ship – and you want to know about your parents?”

“Honestly, yes. I’ve heard rumors about magic, and have spent years serving Killian – uh, the Captain, rum. But I’ve never even imagined that I would ever find my parents.”

“This is unbelievable,” she comments, then continues looking out the window.

“Anyway, Miss Swan, to answer your question, your parents have been – ah-ah-ah – waiting for you for quite some time.” Every time he does it, Emma really wishes that she understood the joke he was making – and as if he could read her mind, he cackles and adds, “It’ll all make sense soon, dearie.”

“But then, who are my parents?”

“You’re in for another surprise,” Regina mumbles under her breath, though loud enough for Emma to hear, and at first she didn’t believe that was possible – but boy was she proven wrong.

“Well, who else? Snow White and Prince Charming!”


	3. Chapter 3

“That damned crocodile!” he says out loud, pacing back and forth across his cabin, his thoughts racing so fast he can barely keep up with them: “What the hell does he want with Emma?... Who are her bloody parents?... Is there anything the Dark One doesn’t know?” He slams his hook down hard enough to leave a dent in the wooden desk. “Mr. Smee!” he yells at the top of his lungs, then continues pacing.

“Yes, Captain?” Smee replies almost immediately, as if he were waiting right outside the door – which he rightfully may have been, given the Captain’s current disposition.

“How far are we from the Dark One’s castle?”

“By ship or by foot, Captain?”

“Whichever is faster!” He is so fuming that he slams his hook again, this time into one of the wooden poles that holds up the ceiling.

Consulting the map on the wall, Smee runs his finger along the waterline, right where they are. “There’s another harbor not far from there, about a third of an hour, sir.”

This calms Hook down for the time being. “Good answer, Smee. Get me there.”

“Yes, sir!” He is halfway up the ladder before Killian adds, “And get us there quietly!”

Smee was right, and once they were moving, they arrived at the Dark One’s palace in less than half an hour. The walk from that harbor was mere minutes, led by Killian in the front, Smee following on his heels, and a handful of his best fighters following just in case the necessity came about – not that he didn’t think he could fend off any assailants, especially for Emma, but they were a worst-case measure.

“Um, C-Cap-Captain,” Smee stutters behind him, pulling on his coattails. “Are you sure this is a good idea, Captain?”

“Even if it’s not, who are you to question my decisions?” he spits back, proving a big point.

“A trusted advisor, I would think, sir,” Smee responds, which Killian promptly ignores.

It doesn’t take very long for Hook to be proven incorrect, though – and when they reach the clearing surrounding the castle and find a protection charm on it, not allowing them to enter, Hook falls to his knees and screams at the top of his lungs.

“Captain,” Smee starts, but when he sees the raging gleam in Hook’s shining blue eyes, he not only stops, but takes a step back.

After the moment he takes to regain himself, he stands back up, wiping the dirt from the knees of his breeches, and turns back to Mr. Smee. When he doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, Smee tries again: “Yes, Captain?”

Smee recognizes the look on his face almost immediately, as it’s one he’s seen many, many times before: the thirst for revenge. “The Crocodile has already taken one of the woman I love away from me, he’s not going to take another.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, sir… Who is she?”

Smee is beyond words when he sees the softness that enters the shocking blue of the Captain’s eyes. “Her – her name is Emma Swan, and she’s the barmaid at – “ At just that moment, Killian remembers who he is, or at least who he is in front of his men, and regains his Captain’s composure, the hardness back in his eyes. With a grinding quiver of his jawbone, he straightens his back and rubs his thumb against his hook. “But that really is no business of yours, is it, Mr. Smee?”

“Sorry, Captain, yes, sir, I was just curious, is all.”

“Your place is not to be curious, is it?”

“No, sir.”

“No, you’re right. Your place is to follow my commands without question.”

“Yes, sir.”

Hook simply nods, then turns back towards the protection charm, which flashes blue when he touches it with his hand.

After a moment, one of the crewmembers, a man named William, speaks up, which takes a lot of nerve, given the conversation that just ended. “Uh, Captain Hook, sir?”

“Yes, William?” He is annoyed, but hopes the interruption serves a great purpose.

“Is that important?” he asks, pointing to a road not far off from where they stand. Stopped probably right outside the dome of the protection spell is a rather large carriage, led by two large, black horses. Standing outside the carriage, blue magic spreading from her hands, stands a woman with long, black hair, who seems vaguely familiar. He recognizes her face, even from relatively far away, then places it – Regina, the other barmaid who left with Emma and the crocodile.

“Isn’t that – “ Smee begins, but Hook has no time.

“Gentlemen, we must go after that carriage!” He commands, but then Regina’s magic contacts the protection spell dome, and it seems to disappear. With this, he changes his command, all without saying a word, as he steps across the threshold that existed a moment ago. He turns back to his handful of adversaries. “Let’s kill us a crocodile, mates.”

 

**

 

Emma watches in awe from the carriage as Regina casts her magic, which shines a deep blue as it radiates from her hands.

“What – what is she doing?” Emma can’t help but ask, though she has a feeling that his answer won’t be highly helpful.

He laughs again, a sound which never fails to send chills down her spine, then actually answers her question. “She placed a protection spell on my property before we left, so that no unwanted guests can surprise us. And now she’s taking it down for a moment so we can pass through, as you weren’t here when she placed it, and to continue to keep us safe, she will place it again once we pass through.”

Emma sees movement through the trees, a small flash of red in the brush, and it doesn’t take very long for Emma to place that red, and then the next flash of darker red, the first being the red cap of Killian’s first mate, Mr. Smee – and the second being the deep red of Killian’s vest. At first, she doesn’t believe it, then she doesn’t want to believe it: Captain Hook is saving her, though she’s not even sure that she needs to be saved. She wants to meet her parents, wants to learn more about magic (though she’s not sure that she wants to learn how to do it.) She wants to know why Regina seems to hate her so much, and if the rumors she’s heard about Rumplestiltskin are true. Honestly, she’s not even sure she is in danger – but she knows full well that Killian would be if he were to infiltrate the Dark One’s palace. (And the question that’s burning into her brain more than any other is this: what exactly is a Dark One?”

“Are we ready yet, dearie?”

In place of an answer, Regina turns back to the carriage with a smile on her face as the blue dome seems to disappear.

“My star pupil,” Rumplestiltskin comments, a creepy smile covering his face, then hits his fist against the side of the carriage, which causes the horses to take a few steps forward, then stop again.

Emma wants to search the woods for Killian, warn his of this place and what may happen to him, but she does not want to draw attention to him, so she simply continues to watch in awe as Regina re-casts the protection spell, reinstalling the blue dome around the castle. Another moment longer, and Regina climbs back into the carriage, the same smile plastered on her face from before.

“Did you see that?” she asks excitedly, a whole new disposition than the one Emma is so used to.

“Let’s just hope it holds, dearie,” Rumplestiltskin replies, no longer as proud as he was moments ago. “Wouldn’t want any… unsuspecting guests.” He looks right as Emma as he says this, and it makes her believe that he also knows about Killian and his crew coming to save her – though that couldn’t be possible, because he was never on the same side of the carriage, looking out the same window.

As the carriage begins rolling again, Rumplestiltskin looks right at her – for a moment, he seems to be looking through her, into her soul and her thoughts, but that can’t be possible – then asks, “Well, Miss Swan, are you ready to meet your parents?”

“I – I think so,” she stammers with a nod.

“But you’re nervous, too.” It’s not a question.

“Well, yes. I never knew them, don’t remember them at all. Almost as if they’re not actually my parents. Did they give me up for a reason? Did they not want me?”

“All your questions will be answered.” This time, the answer comes from Regina.

While she’s talking, Emma decides it’s the right time to question Regina specifically. “What did my parents do to you to cause you to hate them so much?”

“The short version?” Regina seems just as surprised with herself as Emma is to hear her respond. “Your mother had my beloved killed.”

“But I thought you said my mother was Snow White? Isn’t she, like, the nicest human ever to walk the planet?”

“I’m so sick of that rumor,” Regina comments, but Rumplestiltskin holds up his hand to stop her from continuing.

“She may be that now, but before you were born, she was an outlaw, and killed a lot of the queen’s men.”

“As well as many of my friends,” Regina adds under her breath.

“I never heard about that,” Emma says simply, needing to say something.

“Of course you never did. Ever since she became the perfect Snow White she is now, people seemed to have forgotten who she used to be.”

“Rather good at archery, though,” Rumplestiltskin adds, almost as if he doesn’t see the hard look on Regina’s face.

Everyone keeps silent until the carriage comes to a halt, which is only a few seconds later. Rumplestiltskin jumps out first and holds out his hand to assist Regina, who turns him down and does it herself. Emma, however, shows courtesy, and takes Rumplestiltskin’s hand as she exits the carriage, though she regrets it somewhat when she realizes that his skin looks just like it feels – cold, scaly, and uncomfortable.

“So, this is where the Dark One lives?” Emma asks, pointing her question towards Rumplestiltskin, and is highly surprised when Regina answers her.

“Well, technically, this is just Rumplestiltskin’s castle, not specifically the Dark One’s.”

“What’s – what’s the difference?”

“What do you mean?”

“What’s the difference between Rumplestiltskin and the Dark One? Aren’t they the same person?” She turns around to address him specifically, only to find him gone. “Where did he go?”

“Oh, he tends to disappear. But no, they’re not the same. Well, right now they are. But the Dark One is the vessel for all dark magic, it’s not always the same person. No one usually knows them by name like people do Rumplestiltskin. The Dark One can change, if you kill them or by other magical happenings. Right now, it’s Rumplestiltskin. Who knows who it’s going to be next.”

Almost jumping out from the hallway in front of them, Rumplestiltskin himself reappears, his laugh giving away his presence before he physically reveals it. “That’s right, dearies. No one knows who may be next, and that’s why it’s so important to carefully practice magic.”

“And that’s why I’m teaching you, and he’s not,” Regina comments with a smile, leading her around the corner and into a hallway lit only by candles attached to the wall, then down a large, stone staircase, also lit by small candles.

Recognizing the aura of the staircase and what it leads to even before she reaches the bottom, Emma turns slightly to Rumplestiltskin. “You really are holding my parents prisoner, aren’t you?” She doesn’t wait for a response before she adds, “How long have they been here?”

“Oh, not very long, dearie. Or else I would have come for you sooner.”

When she reaches the bottom of the stairway, Emma’s a little appalled to see how large the cellar is, and how full of small prison cells it is – which, truthfully, isn’t very difficult, as she was expecting maybe two. She counts four on one side and five on the other, as well as one larger one at the opposite end of the hallway than the foot of the stairs – the only one currently holding people in them, a man and a woman who seem relatively familiar to Emma, who must be her parents.

“Emma!” the dark-haired woman yells right away, as if she has any right to act like she missed Emma at all, or even like she knows anything about her.

The tall blonde man says nothing, only stares at her in awe.

“You know, Dark One,” the woman (Snow White?) speaks out again. “You didn’t have to imprison us. We would have come willingly had we known you were going to bring us our daughter back.”

Emma repeats these words in her head, “Bring her back,” but stays silent.

“Oh, it wasn’t just for this,” Rumplestiltskin retorts, a strange smile spreading across his reptilian face. “It’s also to make sure you don’t interfere with her training.”

“Training?” The man (‘Prince Charming,’ Emma reminds herself) repeats, then Snow’s eyes grow wide, looking right at Regina.

“You’re going to teach her magic, aren’t you?”

“Well, yes.” Regina replies, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Emma,” Charming says, looking right at her, and she finds something familiar in the way he says her name. “You don’t have to do this.”

She suddenly finds herself needing to make yet another important decision today, because he’s right: she doesn’t have to do this – but does she want to?

And, for the second time today, she decides to take a dive into the unknown, flashing Regina a small smile before turning back to her father.

“I know I don’t have to, but I want to.”

“Good choice, dearie, because you’ll need magic if you’re ever going to fulfil your destiny.” She wants to be shocked by Rumplestiltskin’s words, wants just one more thing today to render her speechless, but this just doesn’t do it.

“Her – her destiny?” Snow White is more shocked than she is.

“Well, of course she has a destiny. What else do you expect of the product of true love?”

Snow and Charming share a glance, then shrug together, agreeing with his point.

“Now, if you don’t mind, we should get started,” Regina comments, but Emma cuts her off.

“I would – I would really like to speak with my parents for a little bit first, before we start, if that’s okay?”

Regina rolls her eyes, but then goes to walk away. “Sentiment,” Emma hears her mumble under her breath, and then she disappears up the spiral staircase.

“Sure, dearie, it’s not like we’re pressed for time or anything, there’s only the whole of humanity at stake here.”

For some reason, this really gets under Emma’s skin. “Listen, Dark One,” she says angrily. “I didn’t have to come with you. I was just fine with my simple life. So, please, give me a few minutes with my parents before I start doing what you want.”

Without another word, but with his eyebrows raised, Rumplestiltskin backs away towards the steps, then turns and follows Regina out of the cellar.

When the echo of his footsteps became inaudible, Emma takes a deep breath and turns back towards the cell.

“So, you’re – you’re my parents?” She tries to think of a different opening question, perhaps one that’s a little less awkward, but she comes up blank.

“Emma, we’re so sorry,” Snow opens, pressing her palms flat against the metal bars.

“You should be sorry, and you better have a good explanation for why you’ve left me alone for the past twenty years of my life.”

“We do have a good explanation, Emma, but now may not be the best time for it,” Charming says.

“And why the bloody hell not? Do you have somewhere you have to be, because I’m pretty sure you’re stuck here.”

“Well, honestly, we’re still not quite sure what happened,” although Emma doesn’t quite understand what Snow means by this, she allows her to continue without interruption. “We were so excited for you, we had just gotten married, our whole lives were ahead of us. We had you, and we were so happy.” Suddenly, Snow’s voice chokes up, and she turns away from Emma.

Charming takes over. “You weren’t even born for a few hours before he showed up,” He gestures above him, and Emma realizes that he means Rumplestiltskin. “He – he seemed to stop time, or at least freeze us. He took you right out of my arms, then flashed us that stupid little smile of his and disappeared in a flash of black smoke. We couldn’t move until after he disappeared. Your mother – she was devastated.” At this moment, Snow White turns around to face Emma again, then takes over the story.

“It was both the best and worst day of our lives. We had you, we had you in our arms, and the Dark One took you away from us, just like that.”

“So, you’re telling me that the man that practically just kidnapped me, actually kidnapped me before, and is the reason that I grew up running around in the woods, without a home or a family?”

“Emma, we’re so sorry.” The words come from both of her parents at the same time, who then look at each other, smile, and embrace each other.

“I have another question, then. Well, more than one.”

“Anything, Emma.” The voice of Prince Charming is fatherly, caring, the kind of voice Emma has been missing her whole life.

“Rumplestiltskin said that I’m a child borne of true love. What – what does that mean?”

“Have you ever heard any fairy tales, Emma?” This time, her mother answers – or, well, retorts.

Emma nods, then says, “Well, yes, the outlaws who raised me used to tell tall tales, of dragons and knights in shining armor and grand palaces, but true love was always only in the tales that the maidens whispered to each other when they were doing the laundry or cooking.”

“Well, Emma, it’s true.”

“What’s true, Charming?”

He turns to his wife, as if he doesn’t know the right way to word it – and he probably doesn’t. Snow White gently sets her hand on her husband’s arm.

“True love, Emma. And I’ll tell you this.” She shares a warm smile with her husband before continuing, “It can do magical things.”

“So that’s why I have a destiny?” Things seem to be adding up in Emma’s head, though there are still quite a few holes left.

Charming answers again. “Yes, because you’re the product of true love.”

“And you – you never wanted to give me away? To abandon me?”

“No, Emma, of course not.” Snow White looks like she’s about to cry. “We never wanted to do anything to hurt you. You were our baby girl and we wanted you so badly.” With that, she actually starts to cry, and Charming takes over again.

“We even tried to look for you, but every time we got close, the Dark One would get in our way. It was apparently part of your destiny for you to grow up without us, learn the harness of the world at a young age.”

Emma hears a sort of wispy sound behind her, and the Dark One appears in what looks like a cloud of black smoke. “And now that we have that all worked out, dearies, can it be time to get to work?”

Emma rolls her eyes, but then turns completely towards him. “I guess it can be time to start now,” she says, flashing her parents a quick smile before heading back up the steps.


	4. Chapter 4

Emma’s lesson lasts for a little under two hours – a little extreme, she thinks, for her first lesson, but since she gets the gist of it relatively quickly, not much of the time is wasted. It’s still a little while to sundown when they wrap up, so she tells Rumplestiltskin and Regina that she’s going for a walk around the ground to clear her mind (though she also, secretly, wants to find Hook and warn him.)

“Just be careful, dearie,” Rumplestiltskin says with a smile. “The protection spell won’t prohibit you from leaving, but if you find yourself on the other side of it – ah-ah-ah – you’ll be out there all night!”

“Just don’t stray too far from the castle,” Regina comments, and then steps in closer. “But just as a precaution, there’s a spot in the woods between two pale white birch trees that will act as a doorway when you touch them while doing magic.”

“How will I know if I’m on the other side of the dome?”

“It’ll turn blue when you touch it.”

Emma sets her hand on Regina’s arm, and looks around for Rumplestiltskin, who has gone missing. “Thank you, Regina.”

 

**

 

“What’s our plan of action, Captain?” Smee asks, leaning back against a large oak tree.

Unlike the rest of his crew, the Captain is ill at ease, pacing around the small clearing while everyone else rests. He peers through the trees, trying to place the sun, though his internal clock is telling him there is still about an hour left until sundown.

“Well at least wait until full darkness to investigate the castle come more, look for entrances or – “ He lowers his voice, speaking only to himself now. “Or Emma.”

He paces back and forth a few more times, very aware of the impressions his thick, black boots leave in the dirt.

As smooth and steady as he’s been able to keep his voice, he is just as much in the unknown as everyone else. He does not know how to be a rescuer, how to be someone’s “knight in shining armor”; no, he knows how to be a bloodthirsty pirate, how to keep his ship spotless and his crew happy, how to seek revenge. Even with Milah, he never needed to be heroic, was never challenged or pushed to be anything beyond his comfort zone.

And as much as he was okay with that while it lasted, he’s ready now, ready for real adventure, something that will test his limits and show him things about himself he never knew were there.

Just then, through the trees, he sees – no, no, no, he says to himself, that can’t be right. He paces one more time, then turns back to where he saw the flash of light blue moments before – and then she steps into the clearing and proves to him that he wasn’t just seeing things.

“Emma?” He’s still not entirely sure that his eyes aren’t lying to him.

“Killian!” Her voice is breathy, excited, and by the expression on her face he can tell that it takes all she has not to run across the rest of the woods to him.

“Emma, what in the bloody hell are you doing out here, I thought – “ But before he can finish, she brings herself to a stop by pressing her hands against his chest, then, a moment later, pressing her lips against his.

A thousand questions rattle through his brain, and he really wants to focus on the moment, on the heat radiating through her hands and the feeling of her soft lips pressed on his, but he – he just can’t, though he at least waits for her to pull away again before he begins bombarding her.

“Does the Dark One know you’re out here? Does the Dark One know I’m out here?”

She smiles at him, at the quickness in his words and the worry in his voice. “He knows I’m out here, yes. But I honestly don’t know if he knows about you, but that’s why I’m out here.”

Only when she looks behind him does he remember that they are not alone in the clearing. After sharing a knowing look with her, he turns towards his crew, putting his Captain’s face back on.

“Boys!” His voice has lost its softness, its care. “Stay here.”

“Captain, the protection spell!” Mr. Smee warns, and he is all ready to yell back at him to mind his own business when he sees Emma behind him, holding what seems to be a white orb in her hand.

“No worries, Mr. Smee,” she replies with a sly smile on her perfect face. “I’ve got that covered.”

It’s only then that Killian realizes that it’s not a glowing orb, but is, in fact, magic.

“Aye,” Hook says, wrapping his good arm around Emma’s shoulder and leading her away from the clearing. “Stay here,” he repeats, then they walk off.

He waits until they’re out of earshot, then continues with his flurry of questions, though none seems as important at the first. “I was going to ask you how your lesson went, because I’m assuming that’s what went down here, though you seemed to have covered that already with the glowing ball of… white.” It’s only when he repeats this phrase in his head that he realizes just how stupid it makes him sound.

However, when she repeats it back to him with a smile, it doesn’t seem as bad. “Yes, the glowing ball of white is my magic, and Regina says that I’m one of the lucky few with a natural ability, unlike herself, because she had to learn everything including the conjuring.”

“How does it – how does it feel? You know, when you do it?” He realizes that there more important questions, holes in his mind that he needs to fill in, but seeing the way she lights up talking about magic urges him to stay on the subject – which he does find a little odd, given her feelings towards that subject as a whole just a few hours before.

To assist with her answer, Emma conjures a small orb into her left hand, her face painted with a proud grin. “It’s a warmth like I’ve never felt before, so unlike warmth that comes from outside the body. It starts here,” she presses her hand first against the spot right above her stomach, then against the same spot on him. “But then it works its way across the whole body, all the way out to your fingertips.”

“And your parents, can they do magic? I mean, like you can?”

Her face contorts to a quizzical expression, and she tilts her head to the side the same way a dog does when coaxed with a treat. “You know, I didn’t ask. But Regina made it sound like it didn’t work like that, as if you either have the natural ability or you don’t.”

He just nods, leading them further along in the woods. After a moment, when he finalizes that she won’t be continuing, he moves on to the deeper questions and asks, “And the Dark One, has he explained his need for you yet?”

“He says that I’m the outcome of true love, and because of that, I have a destiny that I have to fulfill, or it will change life as we know it.” She must recognize the look of terror in his eyes, because she blushes and adds, “Or something like that.”

“So, your parents, you figured out who they are?”

“Yes, another one of the surprises for today. They’re Prince Charming and Snow White.”

He stops her, both in speech and in movement, confused. “You mean that the most honest couple in history had a child… and abandoned it somewhere? And that child is you?”

“Oh, that’s the other thing.” She seems to be looking for something, he realizes, as she continues to lead them through the woods, her eyes taking in most of the scenery, but he really doesn’t care that much – she’s here, and that’s what matters. “They didn’t abandon me. Rumplestiltskin came and took me away from them, something more about fulfilling my destiny.”

He can’t help but slyly smile at this. “Aye, so the Dark One ruined your life, too, eh?”

At that moment, she takes his hand – a crudely romantic gesture for Captain Hook, but a perfectly acceptable one for Killian Jones. “I wouldn’t say ‘ruined’, really. It seems pretty good right now, even if the circumstances which led me here were not too great.”

They walk in silence for a while, broken only by the leaves and branches crunching under their feet, until they reach another small clearing like the one Hook’s crew is in. Emma leads them to a log on the opposite side of said clearing, and when she sits down, he follows suit.

“So, when do I get to hear your backstory, Captain Hook?”

He’s not in the least bit surprised, for that’s the question everyone wants to know the answer to – and, for just about the first time, when he hears it from Emma, he realizes that he actually wants to tell her, that he wants her to know the reason for his anger, for his hatred.  But not right now. Instead, he leans down slightly, looking towards the horizon, on which the sun is laying low.

“Shouldn’t you be getting back to the castle by now? Won’t anyone be looking for you?”

“I don’t think anyone suspects anything, no, but I probably also shouldn’t stay out too late, so as to keep it that way.”

“Aye, and I should get back to my men.”

They, once again, walk in silence for a while, simply enjoying the presence of the other, the occasional bump of their arms or their hands. Hook begins to notice some of the marks he had seen earlier in the day, when he and his crew were looking for a place to set up camp, and he decides it’s a good time to ask his remaining question.

“So, Swan, does this mean that you’re not in any danger? Because I will rescue you from that damned crocodile if need be. Otherwise there’s no reason for me to put my men this close to harm, if you don’t need saving.”

Emma smiles up at him. “No, I’m pretty much free to come and go as I please, as long as I’m here for my magic lessons. So if you and your men want to go back to the Jolly Roger, begin pillaging and plundering again, I promise I’ll be alright.” Just then, the two of them reach the clearing where Hook left his men – only to find them all tied up and gagged, leaning against the biggest tree on the outskirts of the clearing.

They look around for a moment, finding no assailant, when a wisp of black smoke appears in front of them. “Emma, dearie,” he opens before he has even wholly appeared. “Are you letting enemies onto my property?”

With a swish of his wrist, Killian is up against the tree with his crew, bound but not gagged – and making sure everyone knew he was that way:

“Crocodile!” He is yelling at the top of his lungs. “You let me and my crew go, or else I’ll – “ With another swish of his wrist, Killian now has a gag matching the rest of his crew.

Then Rumplestiltskin turns to Emma, who immediately tries to plead her case. “I didn’t let him in; they followed us here and came across when Regina lifted the protection spell.”

“Ah, and what exactly was the pirate here for?”

“To save me, and I came out here to tell him I didn’t need saving, that he and his crew would be better off back on the Jolly Roger – “

“And I’m sure he was just going to leave.”

When Emma and Rumplestiltskin turn back to Killian, all the anger has gone from his eyes and has been replaced with fear and despair. Hearing their conversation, he begins to nod vigorously, and the rest of his crew follows suit.

“Well, Emma, I’ll give you your first real test: if you can release them from their bonds by nightfall, then they’re free to go. But if you cannot – ah-ah-ah! – Then I’m sure I could find a good use for them someplace else.” Without another word, he disappears into the same cloud of black smoke that he appeared from.

 

**

 

It takes everyone a moment to realize what has just happened, and almost identical looks of terror and confusion cover Emma and Killian’s face after a few moments. Emma walks over to them and tries to untie their hands, but finds herself unable – they’re bound by magic. But when she tries to remove the fabric from Killian’s mouth, she is beyond surprised to find that she’s able to do that, as if Rumplestiltskin wanted her to.

As soon as the gag is removed, Killian gulps, his Adam’s apple jumping up and down, then a deep breath before he says, “Emma, you don’t have to do this.” Killian’s voice is soft and caring, which causes the crew to share confused looks.

“Yes, Killian, I do have to.” When she uses his given name, they are no less confused – he hasn’t gone by that since Milah was killed, something most of them were there to see just a few long years ago. “I’m the reason you’re here.”

“No offence, love, but I don’t think your magic is strong enough to undo that of Rumplestiltskin, especially since he’s wanted me as his prisoner, wanted me dead, for years now.”

This statement confuses Emma, perhaps more than anything else that day, which is pretty hard to do.

“But why?”

He smiles at her, a sad smile with many stories behind it – and his sparkling blue eyes holding the same smiling sadness. “I’ll tell you when we’re out of this mess.”

Accepting that as an answer for now, Emma smiles slightly back at him, then holds her hands, palms up, trying to conjure her small, white orbs of magic. Once she has them, she turns her wrists to point her hands at Killian and his crew.

Trying to stay confident, Killian’s eyes widen when he sees Emma’s magic pointing straight at his torso, where his hands are tied. “Just be careful, love. And don’t try too hard. You can do it.”

But Emma doesn’t pay attention to his words; instead, she is harboring Regina’s directions through her head. “Once you have it in your hands, just think about exactly what you want it to do. Picture it clearly, with no way for confusion. Then, when you have the picture, will it. Make it do what you want.”

She sees it, has the clear picture in her head: their hands unbound, and the long strap around them removed. But when she wills it, nothing happens.

“Okay, Emma,” she says aloud, speaking only to herself. “Don’t try to do so much.”

And she tries exactly that: instead of picturing the whole crew free, she tried just Killian, envisions him standing free, unbound – and this time, when she wills the orbs to do this, she is beyond shocked to find that it worked.

 

**

 

“Emma!” Killian exclaims, quickly closing the gap between them, but he realizes that she is still completely enamored by her work, paying no attention to him and focusing completely on finishing what she just started. While she is focused on her work, he is focused on her face, something he hasn’t found himself really able to do since he beckoned her across the tavern what seemed so long ago. He would really like to lose himself in her eyes, the brilliant green orbs that always stood out to him in ways that words couldn’t cover; but since her current task has her so focused that her eyes are closed, he settles for the rest of her face.

She is, beyond any shadow of a doubt, incomparably beautiful (and this is coming from a man who has seen his share of beautiful women.) Her lips, he notices, are a perfect shade of pink, the color of the spring sunset – and even though her bottom lip is tucked between her teeth, he can tell that the pink is completely natural, not one of the dyes or shades that some women use to change theirs. Her brow, though furrowed, is unblemished, as well as her cheeks, which are currently reddening through her hard work. In the low sunlight of the last moments of the day, though the sun is shrouded by the castle and the trees, her shining blonde hair reflects the bright orange of the sky, creating tendrils that resemble crystals and the shining metal of the gold and treasure he loves above all else. Just as he begins to focus of this, on the treasures beyond all measure that he’s strived to collect since he left his Naval position, since he lost the only other thing he’s ever loved as much as himself.

Pulling both of them out of their current states of mind, Emma’s eyes flash open, causing both of them to jump slightly. When Hook turns to his crew, he finds all of them no longer bound and gagged, but instead standing in a group beside the tree that, until moments ago, held them down, chattering amongst each other.

After a moment, Mr. Smee turns to look over his shoulder, right at Hook, a huge smile across his face.

“She did it, Captain!”

Hook looks down at Emma, gently pressing his arm against hers, and then wraps his arm around her shoulders. “Damn right she did,” he replies with a smile. “Now let’s get out of here, before the crocodile returns.”

Just in the nick of time, a shroud of black smoke appears between Hook and his crew. Before his body even completely appears, Hook pushes Emma behind his back and draws his sword.

“What the hell do you want now, crocodile?” Hook asks before Rumplestiltskin has a chance to speak. “She passed your bloody test, why can’t you just leave us alone?”

“Ah-ah-ah!” He starts with a laugh, one that chills Hook to the bone. “That’s exactly why I’m here, pirate – “ he spits out, then peers around him to Emma and adds, “Dearie. But you did exactly that, you passed my test, and that means that you’re free to go – all of you – at least, for the time being.”

“What more could you want from her?” Hook is furious, fuming, but when he feels Emma’s hand on his back, a light touch though hard enough to feel through his layers of leather, he lowers his sword.

“He’s right, though.” Her voice is calm, steady, though Hook has no idea why. “I did what you said to, and you promised to set them free.”

“Aye, dearie, and I will, along with yourself. I’ve just come to bid you adieu and offer you a small warning.”

“Warning?” Emma and Hook ask simultaneously.

“Why, yes, of course! Now, I am going to let you go – let all of you go. But one day soon, when I need you, I will come find you.” He looks is steel grey, colorless eyes with Hook’s piercing blue ones. “No matter where you are, I will find you.” His words are a taunt, a message, meant just for him, a warning he knows full well from his dealing with him. “Also, dearie,” he adds, turning to Emma. “Be careful with your magic, especially since you’re just learning. If you try to use it for things that are too powerful, it will either, well, not work, like a few minutes ago – or it will produce dire consequences.”

Without any further explanation, he disappears in the same billow of black smoke. After a moment, once everyone is sure that he’s gone, Hook throws his arm across Emma’s shoulders once more, turning to his crew.

“Let’s get out of here, sir,” Mr. Smee says, writing his bright red cap between his hands.

Hook shares a glance with Emma, who flashes him half a smile, though she is obviously more worried about the conversation that just took place. With just that glance, he can see something in her eyes that he never noticed before, though whether it wasn’t there before is something that he is unaware. It takes him a moment to put a name to it, and even once he finds it, he’s not sure that he’s right: a sense of adventure.

“Tell me, Emma,” he asks with a smirk. “Where is it that you most want to go?”


	5. Chapter 5

“I assume that’s a question that doesn’t need answered, right?” Emma asks once she can tell they’re passed the protection spell, though his words have been on her mind since he asked them.

“Of course it needs to be answered, love.” Killian and Emma were a few steps behind the crew, his arm still wrapped around Emma’s broad shoulders.

“Well, how far can we go? I mean, I haven’t been very far outside of where we are, outside of what I know. I’ve only heard of other places, other countries, by listening to the sailors talk over their ale and dinners.”

“Well then tell me, love. If you could go anywhere, in any of those stories you’ve heard, any world, any place…” He leans in closer to her, his lips almost touching her ear. “Where would you go?”

This doesn’t seem to answer any of her questions; in fact, a more puzzled look covers her face than before. “Killian, what does that even mean?”

He turns around and nods to the sunset behind them. “Well, love,” he says softly. “I suppose I have one more surprise for you before the day is done.”

Her eyes grow wide, filled with the dazzling green of excitement and mystery. “You mean, realms, different lands, all of that?”

Hook cannot help but smile back at her. “Yes, dear, they’re real, too.”

“And you have the ability to travel to – anywhere?”

“Aye, the Roger can sail more than just the seas.” When a few ticks of the clock pass and she has still not answered, Hook continues, “So, then, love… Where to?”

Ever so slowly, a smile spreads across her face. “Well, there is this one story that the maids always told me as a bedtime story.”

“Name the place, love,” he whispers gently in her ear.

Her eyes grow wide with excitement, thinking back to what seem to be the only good days of her life, when she was just a young girl living in the woods. Just as the harbor and the Roger appear in the distance, she turns her sparkling glass-green eyes to the pirate, a huge smile spread all the way across her face, showing off her brilliant white teeth. “Nottingham.”

He returns her smile, and then hurries them up for a few paces, catching up with the crew. “Did you hear that, boys!” He yells, coaxing the two of them into the crowd. “We’re going to Nottingham!”

 

**

.

“How long will it take to get to Nottingham?” Emma walks around the perimeter of the Captain’s cabin again, but slower this time, running her slender fingers across every surface.

“Well, you see, love,” Killian explains from his current position, sprawled across his bed with his legs crossed at the ankle, sharpening his hook. “My crew and I have vowed never to cross realms after nightfall, because you never know where you might end up. So for the time being,” he flashes her a gleaming smile, patting the spot next to him on the bed. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves a few hours to spare.”

When he wags his eyebrows at her, she leans back against the wall across the cabin from him, crossing her arms across her chest. “Well, Captain.” She speaks his title as a bit of a taunt. “What do you suggest we do with our few hours?”

“As if you don’t know, Swan.” He sits up and sanders across the room, standing so close to her that their bodies are almost touching.

She holds her ground. “I though you said I was the only woman who you’re not lustful towards.” When he puts his forearm of his good arm against the wall above her head, looming over her, she takes a deep breath so as to keep her head straight. “And hasn’t it been a long day? I know it has been for me.”

She goes to duck out from under his arm, but he catches her wrist in his hook. “Aye, love, that’s not quite what I said. Besides, I find you…” He fills his pause by pressing his face closer to hers, able to feel her soft, slow breathing on his chin. “Fascinating.”

Without giving her a chance to back away any farther, he closes the small gap between his lips and hers, softly at first, but when she doesn’t try to back away again, he pushes a little harder, pressing his torso against hers, her back flat against the wall.

After a long minute, Emma presses her hands against his chest, the tips of her fingers pulling on the edges of his vest, but her palms pushing him away slightly. “Killian,” she breathes, their lips still touching, but barely.

“Aye, Swan.” In all the ways that her voice was soft and light, his was deep, throaty, and dripping with his need for her.

While moments before, the very last thing she wanted to do was give herself to this – this pirate, holding back the same way she had done for years at the tavern, when she heard the way he moaned her name, she knew that she was already in too deep, and there was no way back now.

As a response, she pulls his chest back to hers, pressing her lips against his with a more fervent need than before. For a minute, everything felt right, as if it were falling into place. She feels him press his whole body against hers, his tight leather pants hiding nothing from her, and suddenly she realizes that yes, she does want him, especially after all those years of turning down all the offers she was given.

Mere moments before she leads them across the room and back to the bed on which he was so perfectly perched moments before, she thinks back to those men – specifically the one that ruined her life, that left her alone and cold and running from the guards, the one man she had allowed herself to love before – before he abandoned her and his son, the one he never knew existed, and she vowed to keep it that way.

With a clear picture of his face in her head, the picture of the very last time she saw him, leaving her alone to become imprisoned for his crimes, she finds herself no longer able to focus on the beautiful, perfect specimen in front of her, pressing her tightly against the wall.

“Killian,” she breathes again, this time with a lump in her throat, and pushes him away before he can answer, gathering herself and running from his cabin before he even have the chance to call after her.

She can neither think or see clearly, but she holds her own enough to not run into anyone, anything, though she does trip on her skirts a few times as she makes her way as far across the ship as she can from the Captain. She finds herself leaning over the side of the ship next to the foremast, looking out not over the city on the port side, but the vast, empty harbor sea on starboard. While she tries as hard as she can to clear her head, she keeps going back to his face, the face of the man she wishes to never see again, the man who not only ruined her life, but ruined her future, as obviously shown by what just happened to her.

After a few minutes, she feels a presence behind her, a presence that can be no other than the good Captain Hook’s – but when he speaks, she finds herself proven wrong.

“Excuse me, m’lady.” The voice is that of Mr. Smee, the first mate. When she turns to him, slightly past the point of holding back tears, she sees that he’s, in fact, much shorter than she thought, even though she’s only seen him compared to the Captain and other crew members, who she just believed to be tall. Nevertheless, no, Mr. Smee is actually short, not just compared to the crew, but also compared to her, and he holds his hat in hands, wringing the woven red fabric between his chubby fingers. “Miss Swan, was it? Are you okay, m’lady?”

Emma realizes immediately that no one has showed her this much kindness in years, calling her “Miss” and “m’lady” as if she were some sort of royalty and not simply a barmaid (though she supposes with the newly added facts of her heritage, she is, in some ways, a princess.)

Watching the waves was beginning to make her a bit queasy, so she turns around and sits on the deck, learning against the railing. “I believe I am okay, Mr. Smee. It’s just been quite a long day for me.” She looks past him and sees the Captain standing at the helm, staring right at her with a look of intense worry spread across his face. She half-smiles up at him, wanting to assure him that her recent emotional storm off was no fault of his, and he returns the smile but stays at the helm.

When she turns back to Mr. Smee, she finds the same half-smile on his pudgy cheeks. “That is has, Miss. That is has.” After a moment, he adds, “The Captain offers his quarters to you for a private bedroom.” He turns back to Hook himself, who nods in a “get on with it” kind of way. “Or, he also wants you to know that you’re also welcome to return back to town and continue on with your life. He understands.”

She smiles at the first mate, seeing his admiration for the good Captain in his eyes, as well as the truth and integrity in his message. “Thank you, Mr. Smee. And extend my thanks to the Captain, please.” He seems to be waiting for an answer, she decides, when he hasn’t left after another few moments. “And I’ll see you all in the morning.”

He smiles back at her with this, and reaches out his hand. “Can I help you up, Miss?”

“Gladly, thank you,” she responds, wrapping her slender hand around his pudgy one and allowing him to pull her back up onto her feet. Before she walks back to the Captain’s cabin, she bows slightly to Mr. Smee as another thank you and adds, “Good night, Mr. Smee.”

He blushes, probably never having been curtseyed to before, and returns the salutation. “Good night, Miss Swan.”

She carries herself as confidently as she can, extending the same small bow to the other crewmen who allow themselves to meet her eyes – then meeting the Captain’s for perhaps longer than necessary, adding a quick, genuine smile before reentering the cabin.

When she closes the door behind her, she leans back against it, taking a few deep breaths and keeping her eyes closed. This time, when she tries to clear her mind, it works, and she sees only a field of black behind her eyelids, focused entirely on her slow breaths. She looks around the cabin for a few seconds, taking in what just happened to her, the generosity of the Captain and his crew, then flops down on the Captain’s bed.

She’s surprised (and, honestly, a little excited) when she realizes that his mattress is stuffed not with the straw she’s used to, but instead with feathers, quite an expense these days.

Just as she finds herself getting comfortable, there is a soft knock on the door, followed by an even softer, “Emma?”

Even in her present state of him, she finds herself smiling as she answers, “You can come in, Killian.” Before he enters, she sits up in the bed, wrapping one of the blankets around her shoulders like a cape and holding it tight to her body, suddenly chilled.

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay, Emma.” He slowly enters the cabin, as if he’s afraid to do so – which he might just be. “I wouldn’t have been able to sleep without knowing what – what happened to you.” He sits down on the bed next to her, though a good foot between them, and she smiles at him.

“I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about. I pressured you, pushed you harder than I should have. If anything, I should be the one apologizing.”

“It had nothing to do with you, Killian.” Her voice is soft and smooth, though she can feel it beginning to falter down deep in her chest.

“Well, that’s not what it felt like, so I just wanted to check.”

She places her hand on his knee, feeling the warmth radiating from him, even through the leather. “I promise you, Killian, it was nothing you did. I am completely… enamored by you, and this whole adventure that you’ve begun in my life. But earlier I was just, I was overcome with emotion, about things that have happened to me in the past.”

“So it was – it wasn’t anything I did?” She reaches her hand up and runs her fingers through his shabby black hair, long enough to hide her fingers, then softly pulls him towards her and presses her lips against his, only for a moment. “I would never do anything to hurt you, Emma. I don’t know what it is about you, or where these thoughts come from, but from the moment you sat down with me today, from when you decided to leave the tavern with me, I’ve just felt this sense of… something I have not been able to put a word to, but I know that you’re special.”

“A sense of belonging,” Emma comments. “Of home and comfort. Is that the feeling?”

“Aye,” he replies with a smile. “That’s it.” A few moments of content silence pass, and when Emma looks up at him after these moments, her expression has hardened, become more serious.

“Killian, will you –will you stay here with me tonight? Not in – not for what we started earlier, but because I’ve spent too many nights alone in my uncomfortable straw bed, thinking about how alone I am, and now I don’t have to be alone anymore.”

After this request, the features of Killian’s face become so softened and caring that it’s almost as if he was never a pirate, never the most bloodthirsty soul known to man, and was always just a human, with cares and worries and lost loves, a man that Emma wants to spend the rest of her life getting to know. “Of course I will, Emma. Anything for you.”

The bed is just big enough for them to lay next to each other without touching, though Killian is up against the wall.

After a minute, Emma turns to him and asks, “Isn’t this a little weird for you?”

“What do you mean, love?” He lays on his back, with his arms crossed behind his head, his left hand bearing no hook, but just a stump instead.

“Well, are you not the most bloodthirsty, revenge-driven pirate to sail the seas?”

He can’t stop himself from smiling at this, at the reputation that he’s built for himself over the years. “That’s what they tell me, at least.” When she doesn’t continue, he does: “And, let me guess, you want to know how such a bloodthirsty, raging pirate can have a heart?”

He can see the reflection of the low light on her bright teeth when she smiles. “Yes, sort of. That’s only the beginning of it. But I also want to know what in the world happened to you to turn you into a pirate from the man I know you once were.”

“The Dark One, love.”

She rolls onto her side, facing him and closing more of the gap between their bodies. “Well, yes, I figured that much out on my own, thank you. But what did he do?”

When he takes a deep breath, she watches his bare chest raise, then lower, by his breath entering and leaving his body. Without moving his focus from the thick wooden beams of the ceiling, he beings, his voice a slow, soothing softness Emma never heard before.

“Well, love, you know about Milah, my first love, other than the sea. She was Rumple’s wife first, the mother of his son, but she loved me more, more than she could ever love the village coward that Rumplestiltskin was. He couldn’t take it, couldn’t live with himself after Milah left him, and rumor has it that’s why he became the Dark One.” She can tell both by the darkness in his voice and the hardness of his jaw when he says it that his revenge is no joke, and is not a game to him, but that it’s real, rooted in truth and terrible loss. “But when Milah found me and joined my crew, I was already the beginning of the terrible, bloodthirsty pirate you see before you, but then, I was known as Captain Jones.” With his good hand, he points at the sword hanging on the wall, the one Emma realized earlier was too important to use as a weapon – and when he continues, she’s glad she listened to herself. “That sword there belonged to my brother, Liam, the only real role model I had as a boy, after our father abandoned us. When he joined the Navy, I couldn’t wait to do the same, and he made sure I was in his crew so we could travel the seas, the world – the worlds – together. One day, we were on a quest to a place called Neverland to find a plant called Dreamshade for the King. When we got there, we were – we were warned that the plant wasn’t a medicine, as the King told us it was, but instead a poison, and to prove that the King was honest, Liam used it on himself. Needless to say, the man from the island was correct, and Liam died in my arms.” He pushes himself to a sitting position, his gaze looking not at his brother’s sword, but far, far beyond it. “It was then that I decided I would no longer sail for the King’s Navy, but instead against it. Since my brother was no longer alive to captain his ship, I commandeered his position, as I was second in command. I renamed the ship, as I no longer had any want or need for my ship to be known as the “Jewel of the Realm.” It was my jewel, and I belong to no realm, so she got a new name.” He presses his good hand against the thick woodwork of the wall. “The Jolly Roger, sailing under the flag and the code of piracy. ‘For at least among thieves, there is honor.’ That’s what I told my men, and I still go by that line.”

When he finally turns to Emma, his bright blue eyes have lost their excitement and instead hold a new sort of hardness, one that she now knows the story behind. They stay like that for a few minutes, staring at each other in the low light that is left from the lantern across the cabin, from the moonlight streaming through the window.

Finally, she whispers, “Killian, I’m sorry. If I’d have known that it was that – that – “

“Terrible? Emotional?”

“Terrifyingly sad. If I’d have known that, I never would have pushed you to tell me, never would have made you cross that barrier into dispelling your darkest secrets.”

She’s surprised to see a half-smile spread across his scruffy face. “It’s more than okay, love. You asked me earlier for my backstory, when we were behind the Dark One’s castle, and I realized then that, as much as I’ve hidden from it in the past, and as little of it as I want people to know, that for some reason, I wanted to tell you everything.”

“Killian,” she breathes, completely unware of any other possible answers, and for the second time that night, he leans down towards her and presses his soft lips against hers, less fervent than before and more tender, caring.

In the same way that he just let her in one his life, on all the terrible things that have happened to him, she also opens herself up for him, deciding that it’s time to allow another man into her life, that they can’t all hurt her like the first one did – and damned if Killian Jones wasn’t going to be the one to prove that to her.


	6. Chapter 6

“Do we really have to do that, Rumple?”

When he spins around to face her, the light from the lanterns flickers off of his reflective skin, making him look even more reptilian than normal. The gleam in his colorless eyes is perhaps scarier than the idea he just suggested to Regina.

“But really, we have no reason to kill him, especially not just as a test. There are better ways to test someone!”

Just as it always does, the high-pitched cackle of his laughter sends a bone-chilling shudder down Regina’s spine. “Of course we don’t have to kill him, dearie, but it would definitely help the plan! We need her whole world to be turned upside down! To throw her off! To – ah-ah-ah! – challenge her!”

Regina can’t help but crack a smile at this. “You’ve never actually met Emma Swan, have you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” The smile is gone from his scaly face, replaced by a look of sheer malcontent.

“Emma Swan’s life has already been turned upside-down, inside-out – and, oh yeah, all because of you. So if I were you, I would probably not take the only good thing that’s happened to her pretty much her whole life away from her.”

After a moment, he turns back to face her, his eyebrows raised. (Does he even have eyebrows?) “Fine, fine, fine, fine. I won’t – I won’t kill him.” His smile reveals a mouthful of sharp, brown teeth. “Can we at least capture him?”

“Why do you need her to prove herself any more than she already has, Rumple?” Regina is used to having no say when it comes to Rumple’s plans, so she takes full grasp of the ability to argue with him. “He freed not only the pirate, but his whole crew. You told me yourself that she is one of the strongest magicians you’ve ever met, nonetheless taught. Can you not just give her a break?”

“How is she going to learn if we give her a break, dearie?”

“You didn’t push me this far, and I turned out fine.”

“You’re not the key to my whole plan.” Given all the hard work she’s done for him in the past few years, these words are like a dagger in her back; she remembers when he used to talk to her like that, eyes wide and dreaming of the things she could accomplish.

Suddenly, all the empathy she has for Emma molded itself into hatred: hatred not only for her, but for her powers, for her destiny. Turning to Rumple, she almost agrees with his original plan, then decides on her own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this chapter is so short and took so long to publish! Between school and a non-fic piece I've been working on, things have been so out of control - but thanks for keeping up with my works! Hopefully chapter 7 won't take as long to publish - I promise it'll be good, thanks to Regina's newfound hatred.


	7. Chapter 7

For what seemed like the first time in ages, Killian slept long past daybreak, which he finds absolutely surprising, given the sun shining brightly through the grimy windows of the cabin, the visible beams hitting him right in the face. He thinks about rolling over, moving his face out of the light, even though he would never be able to get back to sleep to this hour, but when he remembers Emma, realizes that it’s her bright blonde hair tickling his arm, that her breath is the source of the warmth on his chest – moving is the last thing he wants to do. He tries to press his face into the pillow, to get his eyes out of the bright sunlight any way possible, but he doesn’t want to wake Emma.

“You’ve done it now, mate,” he mumbles to himself, realizing just what this all means, just how deep he’s in—because with his waking thoughts, he realizes one thing: that he is suddenly, completely, and absolutely in love with the woman wrapped in his arms, in love with Emma Swan.

He tries to think how long it’s been since he last felt this way, so free and in love: not since Milah, and that was… Well, back before the alligator cut off his hand and he turned his whole life around. But how many years ago was that? Just thinking about it made his head hurt, trying to add up all the years he’s spent pirating, pillaging and plundering—but it was better than focusing on all the sunlight streaming on his face. Was he seventeen or eighteen when he joined the navy? He was definitely twenty when Liam died… Or was he? And how long did he pirate before Milah came along?

One of the cons to not aging, he soon realizes, is never knowing how old you actually are. And, he wonders, will he ever begin to age again? Or did all the years he spent on Neverland reverse that completely?

After a few long minutes of trying to calculate his age, he concludes that it actually causes a headache worse than that from the sun, and sets his head back down on the pillow, the light streaming right at him, and closes his eyes again, surprising himself by seeming to drift back off to sleep… And very, very quickly…

 

 

He wakes with a jolt so violent that he shoots up in bed, as if sprung from a catapult into the air while still tethered to the ground. His head is throbbing, spinning, burning, as if it has never done before, and he is completely thrown off-guard by his surroundings—even though they are exactly the same as they were less than an hour ago, when he awoke for the first time, save one thing, which he notices after a few seconds.

Emma. Emma is missing, no longer wrapped in his arms, with her face against his chest and her hair strewn over the pillow, her breath tickling his throat and her leg wrapped up between his. Emma.

Just as he’s beginning to really panic, he hears the audible creak of his cabin door swing slowly open, and someone climb down the steps ever so gently. Unless he’s mistaken—which he rarely is—there’s only one person on this ship right now who could approach him so quietly, so calmly, the very same person he was worrying about not moments before.

When he sees her, he is once again enthralled by her sheer being, though in ways he never was before. She has traded in her cotton dress for a pair of black leather breeches with a dark burgundy shirt and silver vest—attire he knew was straight out of his own closet. But when he saw the perfect way the breeches covered her legs, not failing to accentuate them one bit, plus the gaudy way the vest brought out her bosom, even under the thin layer of the shirt, he was not even the least bit upset; in fact, at that moment, he decided that he only wanted to see her in pirate garb, as he had never seen anything more beautiful in all of his—numerous—years.

She opens her mouth as if to speak, but stops when she sees the expression that takes over his face, a face that was stuck in a grimace moments ago. After a moment, she begins anyway: “I brought you some bread and a tankard of water. When I asked the crew what you normally had for breakfast, they all seemed to be dumbfounded, unable to speak, including the cook, so I just grabbed what I saw.” He continues to just stare at her, in all of her perfected beauty, leading her to comment a few seconds later, “Oh, please, not you, too. Can one person on this ship please just talk to me?” Ripping off a chink of bread with her white teeth, she hands him the rest, and the tankard full of water (for the record, not at all what he ate for breakfast, but he could not blame his crew for reacting the same way he was currently.)

“I’m sorry, Emma, you just took me by surprise, is all, dressed like that.”

She immediately takes this the wrong way, staring shocked down at herself. “Is it okay? I was going to ask you first, but you had so much in your closet, I hoped it wouldn’t be a problem.”

Gulping down a mouthful of water, he replies, “It’s definitely not a problem, love. Far from it, in fact. You’ve never looked more—well, more perfect, if I do say so myself.”

Her previously horror-struck face turns upwards into a smirk. “I’ve always liked the way things like this looked, especially more than those stupid, scratchy cotton dresses Paul makes us wear at the tavern.”

“Well, love, I promise you that I’ll never make you wear one of those dresses again, especially after I see you in this. You’re welcome to slip into my breeches any time you want.”

The innuendo does not pass by unnoticed, but Emma refuses to reply to it.

“Eat your breakfast, you pirate,” she says, and the smile that covers her face makes her even more beautiful—which Killian could not believe was possible until he saw it right before his eyes. “Or, at least, this bread, and then we’ll go search for a better breakfast somewhere.”

As he stands up and stretches his arms above his head, he does not fail to see the shadow that seems to pass over Emma’s face, matched by a crazy crooked smile. Keeping his arms behind his back, he returns the smile, but probably not for the same reason. She closes the gap between them with a slow but meaningful saunter, her eyebrows popping up quickly as she reaches out to him, pressing her palms against his chest, bare but covered with a layer of thick, black hair.

“Emma,” he mutters, taking her unblemished face in his hard hand, trying to grasp the gentle and loving natured man he was the night before, genuine and innocent—but when he hears her response, the wanton thickness in her voice as she teases, “Yes, Captain?”, he realizes he can no longer hold himself back, as much as he wanted to the moments before.

No more words pass between them; no more words are needed as they fully express the hunger they have for each other, the polar opposite of what had passed between them the night before.

 

 

She doesn’t know if he allows her to take control, or if she simply does it. In fact, if she were asked to recount exactly how to get back onto the bed, their bare bodies perfectly aligned with the other, hers on top of his, she doesn't think she would be able to come up with anything. Their hands are clasped together against the pillow above Killian’s head, fortifying the perfect melding of their bodies.

It was a feeling that Emma had almost completely forgotten, the ability to be wholly yourself and wholly together with someone else at the same time, and when she feels the way he slides himself into her, slowly at first, then with more fervor, as hard as she tries not to, she cannot help but think back to the only other time she’s felt so complete, the last time she gave herself to anyone, before he disappeared from her life and left her all alone, her and—

Killian unhooks his good hand from hers and presses it against her face, pulling her back to reality, and she realizes a moment too late that a tear is falling down her cheek, slipping and sliding until it plops off her chin and right into Killian’s waiting palm. “Emma,” he whispers, and leans up to press his lips against hers, bringing back some of the innocent passion from the last time they laid this close together. “Emma, I know you’ve been hurt in the past, and I cannot apologize enough for all the harm he’s done to you, but there is one thing I can do: I can promise you that I’ll never, ever make you feel like that again.” He presses his lips against hers again, then against her nose, her cheeks, her forehead, and her lips again. She presses her cheek against his shoulder, which is easy since he’s that much taller than her, and when she feels his lips press gently against her ear, she expects another simple kiss, and is instead completely blown away by what she does get:

“I love you, Emma Swan, maybe more than I’ve ever loved anybody before.”

With those words, her whole body swells, another tear falling down her cheek, her heart fluttering—but, above everything else, the heat within her stomach rising to its peak, sending waves and waves of pleasure through her body.

“I love you,” he repeats, using both his good hand and his stump to hold her against him, allowing himself to feel the same pleasure she does, the words resonating within his own head, words that surprised him, although he has already realized it was true, beyond any shadow of a doubt.

Nothing could stop them; they were in love.


	8. Chapter 8

“Killian! Killian Jones! We have a problem!” The voice was one that Killian would recognize absolutely anywhere, even though he hadn’t heard it for a few years, and the only voice that he would ever be okay with calling him—yelling to him—by his real name.

And, much to his surprise, Emma seemed to recognize the voice as well, but did not look nearly as excited to her it as he was; in fact, she stood motionless against the desk, her arms crossed against her chest, her mouth physically hanging open.

“How do you—?” he goes to ask, but before he can get the whole question out, the cabin door slams open, and in comes one of Killian’s oldest friends (if you would even call him that; Killian would), from before he became Captain Hook. The one person who has strong ties to all the same people, and all the same scenarios.

“Neal?” Emma asks at the same time as Killian greets, “Bae!”

Ignoring Emma completely, Neal says, “Please, Killian, I haven’t gone by Baelfire since I was a little boy, since right after I got off your ship and made a life for myself. You know that.”

“Neal?” Emma repeats, not taking lightly to being ignored by the one person she honestly never wanted to see again. Slamming her palm against the hardwood of the desk, she exclaims, “What the hell?”

Only upon her exclamation does Neal turn towards her. “Hello, Emma,” he says, as if nothing ever happened between them, as if she had no reason to hate him, when in reality, the list is seemingly endless. It’s because of this response, she thinks, that leads her to her next course of action: pushing herself across the room and making audible contact between his left cheek and her fist, all in one swift movement.

When Killian finds him to be unconscious, he turns toward her, a look of awe stricken on his face. “I assume he did something to deserve that, right, love?” She can tell that he is trying to hide his smile, but he’s not succeeding very much.

“You have no idea.”

“Well, you better start talking, love, and tell me just why you punched the man who just might be my only friend in the face before he could deliver whatever warning he came here to give.”

Emma feels the blood rushing to her face and she embarrassingly looks down at the ground, softly muttering, “I guess I didn’t think about that.”

Killian is fuming, more than Emma thinks she’s ever seen him. “Aye, love, I can tell you weren’t thinking of that.”

“Killian, I’m sorry. I acted in the moment, if you knew the history between me and Neal then maybe you’d understand.” She tries to crack a smile, but Killian has taken the demeanor of the Captain that she’s tried so hard to stay away from the past few weeks.

She can tell he has stopped listening to her, focusing completely on waking Neal, slapping his lightly on the face, checking for breath under his nose. “Aye, lad, wake up for me,” he mutters quietly, almost too quiet for Emma to hear. She leans down next to him, gently placing her hand on his shoulder. And he lets her keep it there, but does not react. Instead, he softly slaps Neal’s face with his fingers—still no response.

“Killian, is there anything I can do to help?”

“Aye, love, you could not knock people out when they come to us with warnings.” She doesn’t know if he’s being snarky or sarcastic, but when Neal shakes himself awake, Killian turns to her with a smile, then immediately back to Neal.

“Baelfire? Baelfire, are you awake?”

In response, he reaches his hand out and grasps Killian’s hook hand, the brightness of terror fading back into his dark eyes. “Killian!” His voice is breathy, worried, and for a moment, Emma almost wants to lean down close to him, make sure he is okay, and hear the warning he has for them—almost. And then she remembers why she knocked him out in the first place, all the pain and hurt she’s added to her life, and instead of leaning down towards him, she takes a step back. When she does this, he seems to remember that she’s there, as if he’s completely forgotten what put him on the floor in the first place.  “So it’s true,” he mumbles, just loud enough for Emma to hear. “When I heard the stories, I didn’t think it could actually be _you_ , but boy was I wrong.”

“Can someone please tell me what in the hell is going on right now?” Killian asks, obviously perturbed, but then he shakes his head. “Never mind, we don’t have time for that. Baelfire, do you remember what you came here to warn us about?”

“Yes, of course. The witch—I mean, the barmaid training to be a witch. She’s looking for you, both of you, and she’s not very happy.”

Confused, Killian looks up at Emma. “But I thought you were the barmaid learning magic?”

Emma, however, knows right away what—who—Neal is talking about. “Regina,” she mumbles, not knowing whether she was saying it to herself or as an answer to Killian’s question.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s her name. Well, she’s on her way here, and she’s taking down anyone that gets in her way.”

Emma and Killian share a glace, then nod simultaneously.

Killian straightens up, then reaches his good hand out to heal Neal up. “Well then, let’s get out of here.”

Emma lets him and the crew ready the ship, staying below deck: it was her that Regina was looking for, anyway, and not the Roger itself. After a few minutes that feel like hours to Emma, she feels the ship start to move forward, and she stops pacing to sit down on the bed. It is in this slow-rocking silence that she finally thinks about all the change that has come into her life recently, not just the pirates, but the magic, her parents, the weird reptilian Rumplestiltskin. Just a few short days (weeks?) ago, her life was relatively normal, she was just a barmaid that lived by the docks across the town, spent her days and nights making drunks even more drunk, serving food, and watching the other barmaids leave to do their other duties with the men who come to pay. “Just a barmaid,” she softly lamented to herself, “Who had her heart broken one too many times to even think about doing it again.”

At just that moment, the door to the cabin groans open, and much to her despair, it is Neal that appears at the top of the steps, and not Killian. She stands her ground, leaning back against the dark wooden desk, keeping the position of power, the only comfortable place to stand. Just as she expects, Neal sits on the bed in front of her, needing to look up to make eye contact with her. After a few moments of deafening silence  taken over by the sound of the waves slapping against the sides of the ship, Neal speaks up.

“Emma, it’s good to see you again, after all this time.”

“I wish I could agree it’s a pleasure, Neal, but for me, it really isn’t.”

“It doesn’t have to be like that, Emma. You know that.”

“Does it, Neal? Do you have any idea how much you hurt me? Because I really don’t think that you do. I really don’t think you realize just how much I needed you at that last moment, and how you just left me all alone to do time for _your_ crimes, things I didn’t even commit.”

 “Do you really think I wanted to leave you there?”

“If it wasn’t what you wanted to do, Neal, then why did you? You could have come back, plead your side of the story instead of leaving me there to rot.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Killian standing at the top of the stairs, listening in to their conversation. At first she was a little embarrassed by his presence, but then she realized that it gave her a sense of security and put her more at ease.

“I would be just fine if I never saw you again, Neal. I was hoping for it actually.”

“You can’t mean that, Emma.”

“I can, Neal. You will never know how much I despise you, how much I wanted to go the rest of my life without thinking about you. You ruined everything for me, and up until last night, I never thought I would be able to get over you. And then, finally, someone comes along and helps me get past all the pain and hurt you did to me, and you just come back and fuck it all up.”

“We need to talk about this.”

“ _We_ don’t need to do anything, Neal. _You_ need to leave me alone. I understand that now we’re stuck on the same ship, and I understand that. But if the only way you’ll leave me alone is for me to lock myself in Killian’s cabin until we make port, then that’s exactly what I’ll do.”

“Can you at least tell me what I did wrong?”

“You’re fucking kidding me, right?”

“Emma, I’m serious. I understand that I left you there, but when I went back, they told me you were gone. Did you know that, Emma? That I went back for you? Because maybe if you knew that you wouldn’t be so damn mad at me.”

For the first time in years, she wants to tell someone her biggest secret, but only to get back at Neal? That just doesn’t seem right. But… She allows herself to turn her gaze up towards Killian, and she decides that if she can’t tell Neal, she can at least tell Killian. “It’s not just the fact that you left me to take the punishment for you killing that man, Neal. It’s that you left me and your son to take the punishment, and never seemed to do anything about it.” She’s not even looking at the man in front of her, but instead the one at the head of the stairs looking down at her with glistening green eyes. “So I don’t want to hear any more of your damn excuses, please get out of my cabin.”

“Your cabin? Damn it, Emma, you can’t just kick me out when it’s not even your cabin.”

Suddenly, Killian was next to Neal, obviously not happy about what he just heard. “Get out of the cabin, mate. Before I push you overboard.”

“Killian, you can’t seriously—“

Even in the darkness of the cabin and the odd angle Killian was standing it, Emma could see the seriousness in his face.

“Killian—“

“Get out.” His face was set, the words pushed through clenched teeth, and without another argument, but with a lot of anger, Neal storms out of the cabin, slamming the door behind him.


	9. Chapter 9

“Killian, I’m sorry.” It took all the strength she had to wait until the cabin door was closed behind Neal to let out her tears, tears held back for far too many years.

“No, Emma. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I have everything to be sorry for, a past full of mistakes that I regret more than anything else. Falling in love with the wrong man at the wrong time – how could I even call him a man, we were both still barely old enough to make our own decisions, but damned if we didn’t think we could. And then he – and then he killed that man trying to protect me, but was nowhere to be found to plead the case, so they took me instead. And then, the damned baby…” Emma’s voice becomes so choked up that she can no longer speak, and Killian leads her to the bed and sits her down. Wrapping his arms tight around her, he softly rocks back and forth , sliding his fingers through her soft blonde hair as she sobs into his chest. After a few minutes, her fast, uneven breath starts to slow down, become more regular, and when she looks up at him, her perfect green eyes rimmed with a harsh red. “I never meant to-“ she starts, but Killian softly presses his pointer finger against her lips.

“Shh, love, it’s okay. You need not say anything more about it.”

“But I want to, Killian. Now that I started to let it all out, I don’t think I can stop until I’ve told it all, at least to someone. Did you ever keep something so far down inside of you that you think if you don’t let it out, you might just… explode?”

Killian thinks back to his dark childhood, to his father that abandoned him, his mother he never knew, his brother that died in his arms, then his Milah, and nods his head. “Aye, love, I think I know what you mean.”

“Well, I’ve never told any of this to anyone before, and now that I’ve started, I think I need to tell you the rest.”

“Me? But what about Neal? Doesn’t he deserve to know?”

Emma’s irritated eyes go dark, and for a moment she scowls at him, though they both know her anger is with someone other than the pirate. “If I wanted to tell Neal anything, then I would have told him while he was here.”

“But you did start to tell him, did you not?”

Her immediate answer is a shake of her head, but she wipes her eyes with the palms of her hands before she answers. “No, Killian. He was in the room, but I was never talking to him. The only reason I had the courage to say any of that was because I knew you were there to listen. As much as I should have been talking to him, I never was.”

A silent beat passed between them, and when Emma turned her green eyes up to Killian’s blazing blues, he nods slowly to her. “Aye, love. If you want to tell me, then I won’t stop you again.”

She takes a slow, deep breath and presses her hand against his cheek. “I never planned to tell anyone about this, you know. He was going to be my little secret for the rest of my life. No one ever had to know.”

“But what happened to him? Your son?”

“The mistress of the town I was being kept in had d deal with her husband that any of the women who are convicted of crimes are under her jurisdiction and get to help her instead of being stuck in the prison. There weren’t very many women prisoners, so she and I spent a good amount of quality time together. After a while,I learned that I was pregnant, and Neal was the only option as the father and I never wanted to see him again, so keeping him was not an option. The mistress took care of me, made sure I had everything I needed, a safe place to sleep – I wasn’t staying in the dungeons in that condition, she would never let me. And when I did give birth, she wanted him, more than I ever would. And then by that time, I was free to go, and I did. I mean, I stayed in the town, because Aurora helped me get a job and a safe place to live. That was a few years ago, and that was where I was when you came along and changed my life in more ways than I ever thought I would be okay with ever again.”

“Swan,” Killian whispers, but Emma pushes her lips against his as a stopper for his words.

“You should get back to your crew, make sure everything is okay.”

“And you’re just going to stay down here?” he asks, his words mumbled through his lips pressed against her forehead.

“Yeah, I’m just going to lay down for a while. I’ll come up when I feel better.”

“Do you want me to lock the door to the cabin?”

She feels her lips turn into a half-smile, though unconsciously. “Will you still be able to get back in?”

He pulls a long chain out from under his shirt, revealing a shining silver key. “I’m the only one, love.” He leans in close, pressing his warm lips against her ear. “It’s my ship, if you’ll remember.”

“Aye, Captain. I’ll be down here if you need me.”

“I always need you.” He chuckles, but gets up and walks out of the cabin anyway. Emma barely hears the click of the large lock before she’s off to sleep.

 

 

The thick heels of his black boots click loudly on the polished deck, audible even over the sounds of sailing: the crashing waves, the banter of his men, the squawking of the sea gulls – but even through all this, Neal stands unmoving, leaning on the starboard rail, his gaze lost out in the distance. Killian thinks that Neal hasn’t noticed him, but when he stops behind him, Neal is the first to speak.

“How did you wind up with her on your ship, Captain?” He hears the resentment in Neal’s voice, even under the thick mask of sorrow.

“It’s a long story.” Killian has put his Captain’s composure back on, hard and stiff and serious.

“How much of her story has she told you?”

“Enough to know that just how much she’s been hurt in the past. Especially by you, though I wasn’t aware until today that you were the cause of all her pain.”

“That’s just not fair, Killian. She is not the only one that’s been through a lot. If I remember correctly, your story is full of hurt and being left alone, too.”

“That is where you’re wrong, Baelfire.” He pronounces his name with the same resentment as Neal’s ‘Captain,’ pushed out between clenched teeth. “I have never been alone, not in the way she has.”

“She could have found me if she wanted to. I spent the years after that in the same place that she met me. I, however, had no idea where to find her.”

“Given all that you did to her, I would never have searched for you, either.”

“Glad to know who’s side you’ve chosen, Killian.”

These words pierce his armor like knives, and he no longer tries to hide his emotion, pushing Neal against the side of the ship with enough force that he almost goes overboard, but holds him back from falling, for now, at least. “You’re right, Neal.” His voice is still low, a bitter growl, as he takes the front of Neal’s shirt into his hook. “I have chosen her side, and by it is where I intend to stay for as long as she’ll have me, because I would never, in all of my unnumbered days, hurt Emma Swan the same way you have.”

Keeping the last word as his own, he releases Neal from his grasp and turns on his heel, his coattails flying out behind him as he rushes up to the helm.

After a few minutes, he finds his heading and stands set for what feels like hours, his hook wrapped around one of the handles and his good hand on his hip.

According to the sun, it’s been two hours since he left Emma in his cabin, and he was just thinking that he should check on her when he appears, standing right behind him. He is silent for a moment, taking in his surroundings with a sickly grin on his face, but when he speaks up, it chills Killian to the bone.

“Hello, dearie.”

Killian doesn’t even turn around – he’s seen too much in his time to be surprised by Rumplestiltskin’s presence every time he finds himself in it, even if it is on his own ship, in the middle of the open water.

“What brings you to my ship this time, crocodile?”

“For once, Jones, we’re actually looking for the same person.”

“Is that so?”

“I believe it is.”

“And who is this person that we’re both searching for?”

“Regina Mills.”

“Why in the world would I be searching for the woman that is searching for me? And how do I know that you’re not just leading her here, to us? To her?”

Rumple claps his scaly, pointy-fingered hands together with a giddy smile. “Ah, so Swan is on your ship still. Great, great, it’s better that way. Here’s the deal, dearie. I’ll keep her safe, as long as you do what I ask of you.”

“Aye, and what is it that you need me to do?”

“Oh, that’s easy. I just need you to kill Regina.” He lets out a sinister cackle. “For now.”


	10. Chapter 10

“You want me to kill your protégé?” Killian asks, a look of humor on his face. “Haven’t you taught her everything she knows? And not you cannot control her?”

The Dark One’s face grows dark at Killian’s insult. “Well, it appears that she has grown out of my control, Jones.”

“And you think that the best action to take now is to kill her? And why can you not kill her yourself?”

“Well, where’s the fun in that, dearie?”

“And what if I refuse?”

The Dark One lets out a bone-chilling cackle. “Then you will have both Regina and myself chasing after you, and as you can plainly see, I am much better at tracking people down than she is.”

Killian’s not quite sure how to respond to that, but he doesn’t need to; from behind both of them, a voice springs up that surprises both of them. “Papa?”

Turning towards the voice, they find Neal standing there, his mouth agape.

“Bae,” the Dark One whispers, and for the first time (or so Killian thinks to himself, his own smile slipping on to his face), the smile that the Crocodile gives Baelfire looks sincerely happy instead of sinister.

Simultaneously, the two ask, “What are you doing here?”, but Neal answers first.

“I came to warn Killian about the magic woman coming after him, and I failed to leave the ship before it left port.”

“Well, I am here to offer the Good Captain and his Swan some protection while he takes care of a few things for me.”

“Still offering one-ended deals to innocent people, huh?”

“Baelfire, I wish you would just understand – “

“Oh, I understand, Papa. But I never understood why you chose this life-“ he gestures towards his current reptilian figure, “-over your own family.”

“While you two argue about the past, I am going to discuss this all with Emma,” Killian mutters then starts to slink away, until the Dark One’s words pull him back.

“There is nothing to discuss, Jones. Either you do as I ask, or I make your life harder than it already seems to be.”

Killian doesn’t respond to this, but continues towards his locked cabin door, pulling the small metal chain out from under his vest. As quietly as he can he slips the key into the lock and unlatches it, then tries his hardest to stop the door from making its normal creak, something he has become very talented at.  After a moment of hesitation, he locks the door again behind him.

The sight of Emma sleeping stops him in his tracks, and he takes a few seconds to take her in, seeing her as if for the first time. He takes in the way her braided hair falls across the pillow, a perfect golden waterfall, the cocooned way she holds herself while she sleeps, curled up into a ball, the silent rising and falling of her chest. He focuses on her face, the peaceful look on her face – but it suddenly changes, from serenity to terror: her brows furrow, and her breath transfers to her mouth, now open just enough to emit small sighs, then a whimper.

“Emma,” he whispers, pushing her runaway strands of hair out of her face, then setting his hand against her cheek, but she remains unresponsive. With a gentle shake of her shoulder, he says her name again, a little louder, but she remains in her nightmare. He wants to wake her, wants to remove her from the world of terror she seems to be in within her dream world, but sometimes even nightmares are better than the real world, with all of its terrors that cannot be escaped, no matter how many time you fall asleep – and for a moment, he contemplates leaving her be. But he needs her now, needs her help to overcome this barrier, and he wants to be there when she awakes to hold her in his arms and make sure she is okay.

“Swan!” His voice is still gentle, but edged with fear, especially when he realizes just how much he needs her in this moment, possibly more than she needs him. But this time, she awakens, her whole body jolted when he shakes her shoulder, and she opens her eyes wide. For a moment, she does not seem to understand that he is there, a world of pain and fear in her eyes, but when she looks up at him, most of it fades.

“Killian,” she whispers, a sense of relief in her tone as she rests her body back towards him. “Oh, Killian.”

“It’s okay, Swan. It’s going to be okay.” He just wants to empty himself into her, tell her about the decision that is waiting for them on the deck, but he needs her to be okay first, to solve one terror at a time.

But she seems to have moved on much faster than he thought: “Is everything okay on deck?”

“I was going to make sure that you were okay first, but…”

When he trails off, Emma reaches up and sets her hand against his cheek. “Killian, what’s going on?”

“The Crocodile is here.”

She sits up straighter, turning to face him with her legs crossed beneath her. “Rumplestiltskin is on the _Roger_? How? Aren’t we in the open water?”

“Aye, love.” With a shared nod, he continues, “And he is Baelfire’s father, if you did not know that already.”

“Neal always told me that he had some major family problems, but I never expected his father to be a strange reptilian man.”

“He was not always reptilian, you know. He used to be a regular man, not all scaly.”

“I figured as much, thank you.” A momentary smile passes between them, until Emma asks, “But why is he here? What does he want with you?”

Once this question is in the air, the smile on Killian’s face turns to an angry frown. “That’s why I came down here, Swan. He requests something from me. Well, from us.”

“And what is that?”

“He needs us to kill Regina.” A beat of silence fills the air, and Killian stands up, pacing across the room. “It seems she has grown out of his control and he needs someone to take care of her before she becomes too out of control.”

“But why you?”

“So that he can hold you and your safety over my head, love.”

Emma doesn’t respond to this, but instead walks over to him, placing her hands against his chest,  which forces him to stop pacing and make eye contact with her, which he was avoiding.  “Killian, you have to say no.”

“But I can’t say no. That’s how everything is with the Crocodile. He makes you think that you have an option, but you never do.”

“There has to be something we can do.” He turns away from her again, focusing on the map hanging on the wall. “Is there anywhere we can go that he cannot follow? Or at least can no longer do harm?”

He punches the wall next to the map, but then turns to her, his eyes bright, which she definitely did not expect. Without a word, he walks over to his desk and pulls out a metal object unlike anything Emma has ever seen before. “I have an idea that might just work. We need to leave this realm.”

With all this new knowledge that Emma is discovering, she feels she should not be surprised by this, but she is. “I – I did not even know that was possible.”

He pulls something very small out of his desk drawer and slips it in his pocket before Emma sees what it is, and when he looks up at her, the excitement on his face, in his body language, that he seems to emulate, is unlike any excitement Emma has ever felt. “Aye, love, it’s possible, as long as you have the right tools.” He takes her by the hand and starts to lead her out of the cabin, but he suddenly turns to her, worried. “But we need to get the Dark One off the ship.”

Emma smiles at him, leading him out of the cabin. “Leave that to me.”

When they get back on deck, Killian is surprised to see Neal and the Dark One still arguing, but he realizes that after that many years, they must have quite a lot to talk about. Baelfire was just a lad when Killian found him in Neverland,  and that was so many years ago – so many that Killian was surprised that he was even still alive when he showed up earlier that day.

“Have you made a decision, dearies?” The Dark One asks without even turning towards them.

“Aye, we have, Crocodile. And we will do it for you.” It’s obvious to Emma that he has become the Good Captain again, the man who runs the fiercest vessel known to man.

“But we have a few requests,” Emma spoke up, stepping towards the duo at the helm.

“Oh, and what might those be?” The Dark One’s voice is dripping with facetiousness, but Emma purposefully answers him with a smile.

“Well, first off, I am going to need something of Regina’s to use for a location spell.  I know you have some things of hers at the castle, so whatever you think would work best.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem,” Neal answers before  his father can say anything else, which Emma is happy about, as the Dark One does not look like he was going to accept her conditions.

“We also need a sure way to kill her. Don’t get me wrong, I believe in Killian’s combat skills, but I think we need a better, more assured way to know that we are going to prevail. Whatever you think would work best.”

“Anything else?” The Dark One’s voice is still irritated, but he has accepted their offers.

Emma and Killian both shake their heads, but a voice from behind them surprises the whole group.  “We need something of yours, to use as incentive for you to follow through with your end of the plan, something you care very much for.”

The four of them turn around and face the voice on the deck, the voice that belongs to the first mate, Mister Smee – a voice which Killian has never heard so confident in all the years that man has been on his ship. At first, Killian is wearing the face and the demeanor of the Captain, a demeanor that Smee recognizes right away, but as soon as he opens his mouth, Smee is proven incorrect.  “Brilliant!” Instead of the anger that Smee expects, Killian’s voice is full of respect and awe for Smee’s bravery.

“That’s not a bad idea,” Neal comments, and the glare that the Dark One throws at his son can be felt by the whole crew.

“But I do not think I have anything of that much importance.”

“Of course you do, Papa. You have me.”

“Excuse me?”

“I will stay on the ship until Killian and Emma are done with this. And then, if you let them down, they can kill me.”

“Baelfire – “

“Emma already has enough reasons to kill me, so giving her the incentive and the chance to do so, she would definitely not refuse.”

Neal and Emma pass a short smile of agreement and understanding.

“Fine, I will do as you all ask, as long as you do the same.”

Without giving anyone the chance to respond, he is gone in a puff of black smoke. As soon as it clears, though, Killian is ready for action, pulling the small object Emma saw him slip into his pocket back into his hand, and holding it out for the whole crew to see – it’s a bean, as Emma can see now.

“Well, boys,” he yells excitedly, climbing up onto the railing. “Where is it that you would like to go next?”

Neal, however, is furious. “Really? This is your plan? The travel to a different realm?”

“If you think you have a better plan, Bae, then please disclose it now!”

But Neal is silent for a moment, and when he does speak again, his voice is soft and full of worry. “He can follow you, you know. He has the ability to travel realms, too.”

“That’s why I decided to travel to where we’re about to go. Even if he does follow us, he will no longer be able to do any harm.”

“And where is it that you plan on going?”

“Killian, where are we going?” Emma speaks up, just as curious about their travels as Neal, but before he answers, Killian tosses the small bean into the ocean. For a moment, it does nothing, though the crew members and Neal all grab ahold of the ship, the beams or the ropes. The suddenly, it turns into a swirling vortex of terror, the last thing Emma would ever want to fall into—but Killian steers the ship into it anyway, reaching to hold on to Emma as the ship falls into the abyss.

“The Land Without Magic,” he declares, and everything goes black.  


	11. Chapter 11

“Killian,” her throat is dry, her voice hoarse, and when she tries to sit up, everything goes blurry, hen black, so she lays back down on the cool, wet wood of the deck. “Where – where are we?”

To her surprise, the Captain is already standing at the helm, his hook wrapped around one of the handles and his other hand holding a compass.

“Shh, love. Take your time getting up, you banged your head pretty hard when we landed, and you have been out for a while now. But wherever we are, we are heading due west, and we cannot be far from port.”

“What – what makes you so sure of that?” she asks, sitting up again, this time slower, and when nothing goes blurry or black, she pulls herself into a standing position, though still leaning on the railing. Killian gives her a moment to compose herself, and in this moment, she answers her own question: boats. There are a few scattered boats, but so unlike any boat she has ever seen: instead of the wood that all of the boats she knows are made of, all of these boats are shining white, much smaller than the _Roger_ – and every on every single one of those boats stands a man wearing the strangest clothing she has ever seen, staring up at the _Roger_ , most of their mouths agape.

“Excuse me, sir!” Killian yells to one of the men, the closest one, who is wearing white pants that only come down to his knees and a strange purple shirt. “Can you inform us as to where we are?”

Even through his confused expression, the man answers the question. “About two miles off the coast of New Jersey.”

Killian turns to Emma and mouths, “Miles?”

“Ask him what the date is,” Emma suggests, her mind spinning with questions and ideas, one standing above the rest—which she does not want to believe, until she hears the answer from the man on the small white boat.

“July 12, 2016.”

With this answer, Emma taps Killian on the shoulder. “I have not heard much about this land, but I have overheard Regina mentioning it at the tavern,  and she always said that our world is severely similar to this one, except the presence of magic. She also said that our years and their years coincide relatively well. Killian, we not only changed realms, but we traveled almost five hundred years into the future.”

“It cannot be that much different, Swan,” Killian says skeptically, peering out at the boats again. “Either way, we should take precautions.”

“For one, we should probably not take this ship all the way to port, especially when all of the other ships look like that,” Emma suggests, gesturing out to the strange white boats. At first, she thinks that she can change their ship to look more like that, or make it disappear completely – and then she remembers where they are. The Land _Without_ Magic. Her powers are useless here.

“We could take the dinghies,” Killian replies. They are silent for a moment, taking in their surroundings, the crew chattering amongst themselves.

However, the man in the purple shirt speaks up again, yelling “Are you folks actors?”

“Of course,” Emma mumbles excitedly, then yells back, “Aye, yes, sir!”

“Good luck! The beach is packed, so you’re sure to pull in big tips today!”

“Thank you, sir!” Emma yells back. “I have just one more question for you. How much closer can we get to shore with the ship? This is our first time at this location.”

“I would, uh, weigh anchor when you start to see the individual people on the beach. It gets real shallow pretty quick, but I wouldn’t want the beachgoers to miss seeing this beautiful ship.”

“She is a beauty, isn’t she?” Killian’s voice is proud, excited, and he runs his hand over some of the polished wood.

“And she looks so authentic! Where did you find her?”

“She’s a retired Naval ship, and has been, uh, refurbished to sail again.”

“Well, whoever refurbished it and has been taking care of it has been doing an exceptional job. She looks like a real pirate ship, right out of a fairy tale.”

“She is the pride of my life, mate.” The smile on Killian’s face is unlike anything Emma has ever seen.

“Does she have a name?”

“Aye, the _Jolly Roger_.”

“And you’re supposed to be Captain Hook, then? My daughter loves that story. You’re much nicer than I ever thought Captain Hook would be.”

Killian is taken aback by this comment, but it reminds Emma of the only other thing she has heard about this land: they think everyone from their land is a story book character, from a fairy tale.

“Thank you for all of your help, sir!” Emma yells to the man, then turns back to Killian, pressing her hands against his chest. “I have an idea,” she mutters, then tells her everything that she’s been thinking.

 

 

The beachgoers can see them coming right away – it’s a little hard to ignore a large ship anchored out in the distance, especially when that ship looks more like a pirate’s vessel than the regular oil ships and fishing boats seen on the horizon. At first, Killian is a little weary of Emma’s plan, but with all the attention they get when they reach the shore, he is proven wrong. The man on the boat was right, and the beach is packed, full of people wearing the least amount of clothing that Killian has ever seen, most of whom hand him and his crew strange paper that he can only think is money, though where they keep this money he is unaware, because they obviously have no pockets.

“Be Captain Hook, Killian,” Emma whispers to him, and from that point on, she could tell that Killian really enjoyed yelling at the beachgoers, his strings of pirate curses creating laughter all around, and pulling in much more money. Instead of crossing to the back of the beach and into what can only be the town, they continue down the beach, happily taking money from everyone around them, swords drawn, curses running, “playing” pirates. Killian is extremely glad that he decided to grab the sextant bag at the last moment, or else he would have nowhere left to put the money. After a while, they start to approach a long, wooden walkway full of people, some of which are wearing more appropriate clothing—and carrying more money. By then, most of the crew have found something to hold the money they are handed – their hats, their own small bags . Looking over them, Killian can tell they’re all enjoying what they’re doing, but possibly no one more than Smee, with the biggest smile pasted on his pudgy face.

“Captain, can we take a break?” one of the crew members asks after a while, and they all sit down on one of the benches outside of a restaurant. Emma watches the way that the people interact with the restaurant workers, the ways they interact with each other, taking mental notes. After a moment, she looks over at Killian, his shaggy black hair waving with the soft breezes off the ocean and across the boardwalk, staring intently at one of the bills that he is holding in his hand.

Turning the other way, she eyes the crew members, standing in a group by the railing, talking amongst themselves, eyes still wide as they take in their surroundings. After a few more moments of watching the crowds, Emma presses her hand against Killian’s knee, counts out a few of the bills in her pocket (or, at least guesses at it), and walks across the boardwalk to the restaurant.

With a slight smile, she asks the hostess, “Do you have a menu I can see?” The words feel weird, awkward in her mouth, and she’s not even sure if they’re the right ones, but the woman, dressed in tight, black clothing that reveals her arms (including a tattoo of a pirate ship not unlike the _Roger_ , Emma notices with a slight surprise), hands her a large, plastic-covered piece of paper. Doing math in her head (as well as she can, at least), she turns to Killian and beckons him over.

“Are you hungry?”

“Aye, love, but do we have enough money?”

“We’ve gathered enough this morning to eat.”

He turns to the crew with a smile. “Let’s eat, lads!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end, for now. I might write a more finalized chapter if there's an outcry for it, but it's taken me this long to write the last chapter, so I'm wrapping it up for now. Thank you, humble and wonderful readers!


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